FERNAND  CALAVETTES 


a 


SHE   PRESSED  MORE  CLOSELY   THE   HAND   OF   HER  LITTLE   BROTHER. 


Frontispiece. 


A  FISHER  GIRL  OF  FRANCE 


FROM   THE  FRENCH   OF 

FERNAND   CALMETTES 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  THE  AUTHOR 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,    MEAD   &   COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1892, 

BY 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY. 

All  rights  rtserved. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  i     .......  PAGE  I 

2 "7 

3 "i? 

4 "27 

5         "38 

6 "46 

"7 -  "55 

8 "66 

9 "74 

10 "85 

"    « "93 

12 "   102 

13 "109 

14  ..."  119 

"15  "  129 

16 "138 

"17  •  "148 

'8 "157 

19 "165 

20 "   172 

"21 "  180 

22 "195 

23 "205 

24 "216 

"25       .......  "   222 

26  .      .      .      .      .      .      .  "   229 

27 "241 

"  28 "256 

29 "  265 

"30 "274 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


FACING   PACK 

SHE    PRESSED    MORE    CLOSELY  THE    HAND    OF   HER 

LITTLE  BROTHER,  .....        Frontispiece 

THE  "  BON-PECHEUR"  SPED  GLADLY  NORTHWARD,      .         .  12 

THE  JUG  BETWEEN  His  FEET, 26 

ALL  THE  FORTUNE  OF  THE  CREW  FLOATED  WITH  THE  CUR- 
RENT   38 

THE  WHITE  NIGHT  SEEMED  TO  PENETRATE  ins  HEART,     .  50 

NEAR  HER,  A  SAILOR  CALLED  OUT, 70 

A  SAD  RETURN,          ....../.  84 

SHE  SAW  THE  LITTLE  VILLAGE  WITH  THE  WHITE  HOUSE,     .  88 

THE  OLD  WOMAN  BARRED  THE  DOOR,       ....  100 

SHE  QUICKENED  HER  PACE,  PRESSING  HER  HEAVING  CHEST,  104 

THE  NEXT  NIGHT  ELISE  SAW  HER  FATHER  AGAIN,        .  128 

SHE  WOULD  SEE  AGAIN  THOSE  SHE  LOVED,        .        .  140 

HE  WAS  HAPPY  BECAUSE  HER  CONFIDENCE  HAD  RETURNED,  162 

"  ARE  You  GOING  TO  WAIT  THERE  UNTIL  You  ARE  DRY,"  170 

"  FATHER,  IF  You  WILL  HELP  I  WILL  FIND  You,"        .  192 

HE  UTTERED  A  SERIES  OF  MODULATED  BARKS,    .        .        .  212 

His  RIGID  FINGERS  STOOD  OUT  STIFFLY,         .        ,        .  238 
"CALM  YOURSELF,  ELISE,  WE  SHALL  MAKE  THE   OTHERS 

LAUGH," 252 

SHE  HAD  PICKED  UP  SOMETHING  TO  DEFEND  HERSELF,  262 

SHE  WISHED  TO  CARRY  HIM  AVVAV                                         .  284. 


A 

FISHER  GIRL  OF  FRANCE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

TO-MORROW  at  daybreak  they  will  go  aboard 
together,  Elise  Henin  and  her  little  brother  Firmin. 
They  have  put  on  their  Sunday  clothes  to  say  fare- 
well to  their  mother,  who  sleeps  on  the  slope  of  the 
dune  in  a  corner  of  the  old  graveyard.  Nine  years 
has  the  poor  woman  lain  there  in  the  peace  of  her 
last  sleep — deaf  forever  to  the  noise  of  the  tempests 
which  roused  her  so  often,  of  old,  to  the  vigil  of  anx- 
ious nights. 

She  went  from  the  cares  of  life  a  long  time  before 
her  husband.  He  was  swallowed  up  by  the  sea, 
which  never  gave  back  his  body.  One  night,  when 
the  wind  was  not  high — one  hardly  knows  how  it 
came  about — he  was  caught  in  a  fatal  current  and 
was  lost,  with  his  boat  and  six  companions,  in  the 
wild  eddies  of  the  most  dangerous  shoal  on  that 
coast.  In  some  shelter  for  shipwrecked  sailors, 
beneath  the  wave,  he  is  waiting  for  a  day,  perhaps 
not  distant,  when  a  mighty  tempest  shall  stir  the 
depths  and,  opening  his  prison  of  sand,  return  his 
body  to  earth  again. 


2  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE, 

His  death  brought  ruin  to  his  family.  Although 
he  was  a  skipper,  yet  his  boat  was  all  he  owned. 
Earning  more  or  less  at  the  risk  of  the  tides,  he  was 
returning  from  a  profitable  cruise  with  a  happy 
heart  and  a  full  purse,  for  he  had  sold  his  fish  at  a 
good  price  at  the  market  of  Boulogne.  The  sea  had 
all  in  its  grip — man,  boat,  and  earnings. 

From  the  road  that  climbed  the  dune  one  could 
see  the  spot  beneath  one  on  the  horizon.  The 
color  of  the  sea  was  lighter  there  than  over  the 
depths,  and  the  rays  of  the  sun  made  it  glisten  with 
a  silvery  sheen.  It  seemed  so  smiling  that  one 
would  have  declared  it  harmless. 

Elise  stopped  as  her  thoughts  wandered  to  that 
accursed  gulf.  She  pressed  more  closely  the  hand 
of  her  little  brother,  as  a  mother  who  fears  for  her 
child's  safety. 

For  it  was  she  who  had  brought  him  up,  this 
twelve-year-old  brother,  whom  she  loves  for  his 
sturdy  figure  and  his  robust  health.  She  has  had 
one  idea  only,  that  of  making  him  a  good  sailor. 
It  was  she  who  sang  him  sailors'  songs  to  put  him 
to  sleep  when  little ;  it  was  she  who  carried  him, 
hardly  awake,  along  the  dune  crests  to  show  him  the 
far-off  ships  and  to  direct  his  first  look  to  what  was 
going  on  at  sea.  It  was  she,  too,  who  took  him  to 
the  harbor  that  he  might  play  among  the  rigging. 

Then,  when  they  were  old  enough,  they  had  gone 
with  their  father  on  his  boat,  learning  to  handle  it. 
Elise  knew  as  much  about  fishing  as  a  sailor.  Her 
father  was  very  proud  of  her.  He  had  her  always 
aboard,  and  it  was  a  miracle  that  she  had  not  been 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  3 

lost  with  him.  But  that  week  she  had  been  kept  at 
home,  because  Firmin  was  ill.  She  wished  to  take 
care  of  him  herself,  and  would  not  trust  him  to 
strange  hands.  And  so  they  had  become  orphans, 
sister  and  brother,  without  protection  and  without 
bread. 

But  to-day  their  fortune  seemed  assured.  They 
had  been  engaged  on  a  sloop  for  the  coming  herring 
fishery.  Elise  had  persuaded  the  skipper,  her  cousin 
and  godfather,  to  take  them  on  his  boat  notwith- 
standing the  prejudice  which  sailors  in  petticoats 
generally  inspire.  She  was  as  strong  as  a  man  and 
asked  less  wages,  and  this  was  so  much  in  her  favor. 

For  herself  it  was  enough  that  she  was  to  be  with 
her  brother,  apart  from  whom  she  would  have  been 
too  unhappy  to  live. 

"I  am  proud  of  you,"  she  said  gayly,  "you  will 
make  a  fine  ship's  boy.  I  was  afraid  to  remain  at 
home  alone.  Come,  make  haste,  we  have  still  many 
things  to  arrange  for  our  departure." 

And  with  a  lengthened  step  she  hurried  the  boy 
along  the  sandy  dune  road.  It  was  high  noon. 
The  strong  June  sun,  directly  overhead,  darted  down 
its  burning  rays,  but  the  young  girl  did  not  appear 
to  feel  them.  Lithe  and  alert,  she  moved  along, 
with  figure  erect  and  back  slightly  arched,  in  all  the 
vigor  of  her  nineteen  years. 

Her  graceful  contour  stood  out  distinctly  against 
the  sky.  It  had  little  of  that  masculine  strength 
that  marks  savage  beauties,  but  under  her  brown 
corset  and  gray  skirt  one  could  divine  the  clear-cut 
outline  which  distinguishes  the  purer  races. 


4  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  1- RANGE. 

Hurrying  her  brother  along,  she  soon  gained  the 
crest  of  the  dune;  then  she  stopped  abruptly,  with 
an  involuntary  start,  for  at  the  turn  of  the  road  she 
saw  before  her  the  figure  of  a  strapping  young  fel- 
low, his  arms  swinging  as  he  walked,  and  his  face 
pale  and  a  little  sad. 

"You  have  frightened  us,  Silvere.  It  is  not  the 
time  for  a  stroll.  Are  you  expecting  any  one?" 

"Yes,  you,  Elise.  I  had  an  idea  that  you  would 
come  here,  and  I  ventured,  in  order  to  have  a  last 
word  with  you.  Is  it  decided  that  you  are  to  sail 
to-morrow?" 

"Certainly !  we  have  to  earn  our  bread." 

"If  you  would  but  consent,  I  would  manage  to 
earn  enough  for  us  both.  Elise,  it  breaks  my  heart 
to  see  you  injure  yourself  with  men's  work." 

"What  would  you  have?  I  know  no  other,  nor 
have  I  a  taste  for  any  other." 

"If  you  would  marry  me,  you  would  have  only  to 
keep  the  house.  Will  you  make  me  wretched  by 
refusing  me  again?" 

"Silvere,  I  do  not  wish  to  give  you  pain,  but  it  is 
not  right  of  you  to  urge  me  always  against  my  duty. 
I  have  told  you  my  determination.  I  do  not  intend 
to  marry  until  the  day  when  my  little  Firmin  shall 
be  of  an  age  to  be  a  real  sailor.  It  is  my  duty  to 
help  him,  since  I  am  the  same  as  his  mother." 

"We  would  aid  him  together." 

"No,  he  would  not  be  at  all  happy  if  he  knew  that 
he  was  an  expense  to  another.  And  then,  I  am 
ambitious  that  he  should  become  a  skipper  as  his 
father  was.  I  could  not  give  myself  up  to  this  if  I 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE,  5 

married  you.  When  one  has  a  house  one  should 
devote  one's  self  to  it." 

"Then  you  leave  me  no  hope?" 

"As  I  have  told  you,  wait.  Give  me  time  to 
bring  up  the  child.  I  will  not  refuse  after  that." 

"All  the  same,  it  is  a  long  time  to  wait." 

Elise  had  not  let  go  the  hand  of  her  brother, 
which  she  held  pressed  in  her  own.  She  felt  it 
stirring,  tugging. 

"What  do  you  wish,  my  little  man,  what  troubles 
you?" 

"Bend  down,  I  wish  to  whisper  to  you." 

And  his  lips  raised  toward  his  sister's  ear,  in  a 
grumbling  tone  the  lad  told  his  trouble.  He  did 
not  wish  his  sister's  marriage  to  be  put  off  on  his 
account.  He  was  old  enough  to  go  to  sea  alone. 
He  pressed  his  point  with  an  energy  one  would  not 
have  expected  in  a  lad  of  his  years.  As  he  spoke 
he  put  on  a  resolute  air,  and  under  his  close-cut  hair 
his  strong  features  expressed  so  vigorous  a  will 
that  Elise  was  much  disturbed. 

"You  are  a  brave  boy,  but  you  are  too  young  to 
go  without  me.  Never  mind.  I  shall  not  be  un- 
happy as  long  as  we  are  together  and  you  love  me." 

With  her  sweetest  look  she  smiled  at  the  lad,  then, 
turning  toward  Silvere,  she  gave  him  her  hand. 

"Silvere,  since  our  engagement  is  to  be  long, 
come  with  me  to  the  graveyard.  Let  us  exchange 
our  vows  over  the  grave  of  my  mother." 

And  pensively,  without  speaking  further,  she 
walked  on,  supported  on  one  side  by  her  lover  while 
on  the  other  she  led  her  brother. 


0  A   FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

The  graveyard  was  near  at  hand.  Above  its  low 
wall  could  be  seen,  lost  among  dusty  tamarisks  and 
brambles  already  turning  brown,  some  stone  tombs 
and  some  crosses  of  worn-out  wood,  tottering  and 
almost  uprooted  by  the  west  wind.  It  was  well 
called  the  field  of  the  dead,  for  under  the  pitiless 
sun  it  seemed  a  desert  indeed.  Silvere  stopped 
short  at  the  melancholy  sight.  With  an  uncon- 
scious gesture,  he  held  back  the  young  girl. 

"Elise,  do  not  let  us  plight  our  troth  here.  It  is 
too  sad." 

"Nevertheless,  come.  Mother  will  not  be  happy 
if  we  fail  in  respect.  I  have  no  one  but  her  to  ad- 
vise me,  since  my  father  is  beneath  the  sea." 

Along  the  narrow  footpaths  she  led  the  young 
man  to  the  highest  point  of  the  cemetery,  where 
there  was  the  least  shelter.  There,  in  a  forgotten 
corner,  a  slab,  defaced  and  broken  at  the  corners, 
alone  marked  the  spot  which  the  children  knew  to 
be  their  mother's  resting-place. 

"Mother,"  said  Elise  solemnly,  "since  our  dead 
father's  soul  is  no  more  with  us,  it  is  thy  wish  which 

1  would  obey.     Make  thy  soul  pass  into  mine." 
And  on  her  knees  beside  Silvere,  their  two  hands 

joined,  she  waited  for  the  mother's  blessing  to  pen- 
etrate her  heart. 

An  alkaline  vapor  rose  from  the  overheated  soil, 
and  came  suffocatingly  to  their  nostrils.  Silverc 
had  a  feeling  of  faintness.  He  rose,  trying  to  lift 
Elise,  but  for  some  time  still  she  remained  at 
prayer,  invoking  on  her  brother  and  herself  the  pro- 
tection of  the  dead. 


CHAPTER  II. 

IT  was  hardly  daybreak  when  Elise  and  Firmin 
appeared  on  the  wharf,  pushing  before  them  a 
wheelbarrow,  on  which  were  their  sailors'  kits. 
They  were  the  first  to  arrive.  The  tide  had  gone 
out  and,  aground  in  the  mud,  the  sleeping  boats 
seemed  to  await  in  the  silence  of  the  dawn  the  hour 
for  waking.  Such  of  them  as  were  being  made 
ready  for  sea  could  be  told  by  the  marks  of  recent 
overhauling  and  their  newly  tarred  rigging.  Here 
lay  the  Bon-Pecheur,  a  sloop,  broad  in  the  waist  but 
tapering  gracefully,  and  well-designed  to  cut  the 
waves.  All  was  in  order  on  deck.  The  closed 
hatches  showed  that  supplies  were  stowed  away  and 
everything  ready. 

Elise  stopped  short.  From  the  head  of  the  wharf, 
across  the  masts  and  rigging,  she  could  perceive  the 
Bay  of  Somme,  which  the  sun  was  just  softly  light- 
ing up.  Since  her  childhood  she  had  known  this 
great  clear  bay,  with  its  gray  outlines  softening 
away  into  fog.  She  would  not  see  it  again  that 
night.  Every  day  she  had  come  faithfully  to  give 
it  a  look.  She  loved  it,  not  only  when  the  tide  was 
high  and  it  reflected  the  brightness  of  the  heavens 
in  its  palpitating  waves,  but  when,  though  bare  at 
low  tide,  it  was  still  beautiful,  with  its  banks  of  red 


8  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

sand  and  its  streams  of  water  winding  through  it  to 
the  great  sea. 

Each  day  she  had  seen  on  the  opposite  bank  the 
outline  of  the  town  of  Saint- Valery,  raised  like  a 
fortress  on  a  rock  of  verdure.  Then  she  had  turned 
her  happy  eyes  toward  her  own  modest  fishing 
hamlet,  which,  on  this  side  of  the  bay,  sheltered  itself 
discreetly  behind  the  sandy  dunes.  She  would  see 
none  of  these  things  that  night.  She  loved  them 
truly,  as  one  loves  one's  birthplace,  but  she  loved 
also  the  great  sea  which,  four  miles  away,  marked  by 
a  crystal  line,  all  white  with  foam,  the  limit  of  the 
bay.  Elise  had  often  crossed  that  line  in  her  fa- 
ther's boat,  and  during  three  years  of  fishing  she  had 
been  accustomed  to  sea  life,  but  she  had  never 
quitted  the  waters  of  the  English  Channel,  and  it 
was  in  new  seas  that  she  was  to  be  through  the  long 
hard-worked  months  of  a  fishing  cruise.  Her  breast 
swelled  with  longing  and  a  vague  inquietude,  and 
she  let  her  thoughts  wander  toward  that  infinity  of 
heaven  and  water. 

The  sands  of  the  bay  disappeared  little  by  little 
under  the  rising  tide,  whose  surface,  swept  by  rip- 
ples, announced  a  steady  breeze.  It  was  an'  excel- 
lent omen.  In  less  than  six  days  they  ought  to  be 
on  the  fishing-grounds,  a  hundred  miles  north  of 
Scotland. 

But,  coming  back  to  the  thought  of  her  departure, 
Elise  went  down  from  the  wharf  to  the  sands,  and 
deposited  her  burden  just  under  the  bows  of  the 
Bon-Pccheur,  and,  while  Firmin  went  to  return  the 
wheelbarrow,  she  seated  herself  on  her  sack,  her 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  9 

hands  joined,  her  thoughts  wandering  to  the  far-dis- 
tant region  with  which  she  was  to  make  acquaint- 
ance. Absorbed  in  her  revery,  she  did  not  hear 
heavy  steps  behind  her,  and  started  under  a  strong 
hand  which  struck  her  familiarly  on  the  shoulder. 

"Elise,  you  are  earlier  than  the  tide.  They  are 
good  sailors  who  rise  before  the  fish." 

"Should  it  not  be  so,  Cousin  Florimond?  One 
must  take  trouble  if  one  wishes  to  escape  it." 

"You  are  right.  That  is  a  good  sailor's  rule.  Do 
you  know,  you  look  very  well  under  your  new  sou'- 
wester? The  keenest  eye  could  hardly  tell  you 
from  the  other  sailor  lads." 

"I  will  be  a  man  when  work  is  to  be  done,  Cousin 
Florimond.  I  have  no  fear  of  work." 

"Parbleu  !  All  will  turn  out  well  if  your  Firmin 
does  not  show  himself  obstinate.  He  is  a  little 
inclined  that  way.  He  does  not  always  do  as  one 
tells  him." 

"Have  no  fear,  Cousin  Florimond,  he  will  obey 
you  as  willingly  as  his  father.  Surely,  that  is  one's 
duty  to  the  skipper." 

"Surely.  Besides  I  shall  not  favor  him  more 
than  any  other.  Fishing  is  hard  work,  but  it  makes 
good  sailors.  In  three  seasons  he  will  understand 
his  business.  Then  you  will  be  able  to  leave  him 
alone  and  talk  of  a  husband.  A  husband  is  never 
lacking  to  a  worthy  girl." 

Then,  with  that  rolling  step  which  sailors  affect  so 
much  on  land,  the  skipper  walked  to  the  boat's 
stern.  He  seemed  to  step  with  the  whole  weight  of 
his  body  upon  the  ground,  but  hardly  had  he  felt  the 


io  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

guards  of  the  sloop  under  his  hand  than  he  recovered 
his  agility,  notwithstanding  his  great  leather  boots 
and  his  oil-suit.  Taking  advantage  of  the  rudder- 
post  and  of  the  sloping  side  of  the  boat,  in  three 
tugs  of  his  arms,  and  four  steps,  he  hoisted  himself 
on  deck.  And  there,  striding  about,  he  was  truly 
superb  with  his  tall  figure,  his  broad  shoulders,  his 
curving  chest,  his  strong  arms,  and  his  sturdy  back. 
The  sailor  is  beautiful  only  on  his  boat. 

At  that  moment  Florimond  had  the  bearing 
which  inspires  all  leaders  at  the  hour  of  action.  He 
inhaled  long  draughts  of  the  breeze,  and  with  keen 
eye  he  examined  the  sky  to  see  the  signs  of  the 
weather. 

"Look  then,  Elise,  the  weather  seems  not  half 
bad.  One  never  lies  idle  when  one  works  with  the 
breeze.  Hand  over  the  sacks."  He  stretched  his 
arm  out  to  receive  them,  and  then,  lying  down  flat, 
reached  down,  seized  the  girl  with  both  hands  and, 
raising  himself  all  at  once,  lifted  her  on  deck. 

"Now  you  are  one  of  the  crew,  Elise.  If  the 
others  are  disagreeable,  I  will  protect  you.  Every 
man  has  his  rights  on  a  boat." 

"Thanks,  Cousin  Florimond,  but,  as  long  as  I  do 
my  work  without  flinching,  they  will  have  no  reason 
to  speak  ill  of  me.  If  they  are  disagreeable,  I  will 
defend  myself." 

"Shall  not  I  be  there  to  make  them  hold  their 
tongues?"  said  a  little  voice,  behind  the  young  girl, 
a  boy's  voice,  bold  and  confident.  It  was  Firmin, 
who  had  returned.  He  planted  himself,  with  his  arms 
crossed  and  his  head  thrown  back,  before  his  sister. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  1 1 

• 

"There  is  one  man  who  talks  against  us.  I  have 
heard  him !  I  will  make  him  eat  his  words." 

And  as  if  to  defy  the  enemy  he  awaited,  he  looked 
resolutely  at  the  hamlet. 

From  it  the  sailors  were  coming  in  a  body,  their 
wives  and  children  with  them  They  walked  silently 
beside  a  cart,which  made  its  way  slowly  under  the 
weight  of  their  kits.  When  they  reached  the  boat, 
there  broke  out  at  once  the  noise  of  getting  aboard 
and  the  shouts  of  farewell.  For  the  tide  was  begin- 
ning to  lick  the  keel  of  the  Bon-Pecheur,  and  the 
women  and  children  ran  for  safety  to  the  wharf 
where,  crowded  together,  they  awaited  her  depart- 
ure. Softly  the  sea  lifted  the  sloop,  which  floated 
like  a  sea-gull  on  the  wave. 

"Hoist  the  jib  and  the  staysail.  Hoist  the  jig- 
ger." And  the  canvas,  forward  and  aft,  spread  itself 
as  if  to  try  the  breeze. 

"Trip  the  anchor!"  And  the  chain,  as  the  anchor 
came  home,  ground  against  the  gunwale. 

"Hoist  the  mainsail!"  Two  hundred  and  twenty 
yards  of  canvas  rose  in  air  by  force  of  hand.  All 
tugged  together,  Elise  among  the  rest.  Knowing 
that  she  was  watched  she  strained  every  nerve ;  her 
body  grew  rigid  at  the  work.  "Oh!  hiss!"  Her 
voice  sounded  clear  above  the  hoarse  shouts  of  her 
companions.  "Oh!  hiss!"  The  pulleys  groaned 
under  the  ropes,  and  the  great  sail  hung  ready  to 
take  the  wind. 

"Give  her  a  full."  The  topsails  snapped  out. 
All  the  canvas  was  trimmed  to  catch  the  breeze,  and, 
set  in  motion  by  a  shift  of  the  helm,  the  Bon-Pecheur 


12  A   FISH  EX   GIRL   Of-'  FRANCE. 

* 

sped  gayly  northward  in  tJie  freshness  and  purity  of 
the  morning. 

But  a  small  boat  hailed  them.  A  rope  was 
thrown,  and  Silvere,  climbing  up  it,  quickly  reached 
the  deck.  He  walked  straight  to  the  skipper,  and  in 
a  rough  tone  explained  the  reason  of  his  coming. 
He  had  an  account  to  settle  with  Barnabe. 

Barnabe  was  called.  He  was  a  hap-hazard  sailor, 
half  landsman  half  seaman,  such  as  are  engaged  for 
the  herring  fishery. 

An  unruly  wag  and  a  great  bungler  at  work,  he 
had  not  his  equal  in  gathering  a  crew  about  him  to 
listen  to  his  bluster.  He  was  brave  when  occasion 
called  for  it,  through  vanity,  and  he  had  acquired 
the  reputation  among  the  fishermen  of  a  man  who 
feared  nothing.  Although  his  character  was  known, 
he  was  engaged  from  force  of  habit.  When  one  has 
to  choose  among  landsmen,  one  man  is  as  good  as 
another. 

His  quarrelsome  tongue  spared  no  one.  Scarcely 
had  he  learned  of  Elise's  engagement  than  he  began 
to  trouble  the  whole  village  with  his  threats.  Was 
it  right  to  allow  women  to  steal  men's  work? 
Theirs  would  be  strong  arms  to  handle  the  canvas  in 
the  teeth  of  a  squall!  And  the  night  before,  in  an 
outburst  of  drunken  speech,  he  had  made  threats. 
They  would  see  if  he  would  allow  his  bread  to  be 
eaten  by  this  Lison.  He  would  rather  send  her 
head-first  overboard. 

As  soon  as  he  was  awake  that  morning  Silvere 
had  heard  these  threats,  and,  changed  as  they  were 
in  passing  from  mouth  to  mouth,  they  alarmed  him 


THE  "BON  PECHEUR"  SPED  GAILY  NORTHWARD. 


Chap.  2. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  13 

greatly.  His  character  was  sweet  and  thoughtful; 
he  had  thus  a  tendency  to  exaggerate  the  worst 
side  of  things,  and,  lost  in  fear  for  Elise,  he  had  run 
to  the  pier,  but  too  late.  Then  he  had  thrown  him- 
self into  his  boat,  urging  it  on  in  order  to  overtake 
the  Bon-Pecheur  and  prevent  trouble.  Like  all 
gentle  men,  he  had  over-excited  himself  that  he 
might  appear  more  strong.  When  he  saw  himself 
face  to  face  with  Barnabe,  he  raised  his  voice,  to 
intimidate  him. 

'  You  were  talking  of  Elise  last  night.  If  you 
dare  to  trouble  her,  I  will  make  an  end  of  you  when 
you  return." 

"Where  do  you  get  a  right  to  defend  her?  Is  she 
your  wife?  She  is  not  in  love  with  you,  I  fancy, 
you  old  tub  with  gaping  seams." 

"I  speak,  because  we  are  betrothed." 

"She  has  promised  herself  to  you,  you  great 
snuffer  of  the  moon?  She  has,  then,  a  fancy  for 
sallow  men  only." 

"Be  quiet,  great  blackguard,  or  I  will  take  down 
your  conceit." 

"Don't  try  it,  I  have  my  stingers  to  defend  me." 

And  Barnab£  showed  his  fists  doubled  up  for 
attack.  Small,  but  thickset  and  muscular  in  propor- 
tion, he  squared  himself  on  his  short  legs  before  the 
tall  man  who  stood  before  him,  taken  aback  by  his 
uncertain  movements. 

A  fight  appeared  imminent.  The  deck  was 
nearly  deserted,  the  greater  part  of  the  crew  busy- 
ing themselves  in  arranging  their  effects  in  the 
forecastle.  Two  men  stationed  in  the  bow  took  no 


14  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

notice,  busy  as  they  were  in  managing  the  jib,  while 
astern,  the  sailor  at  the  jigger,  while  he  handled  his 
sheet,  looked  on  and  laughed  like  an  amateur  of  fisti- 
cuffs. He  seemed  truly  happy  at  this  unexpected 
exhibition  which  was  coming  off  so  near  him.  As 
to  the  skipper,  not  being  able  to  leave  the  tiller,  he 
swore  and  threatened ;  then,  despairing  of  silencing 
the  adversaries,  he  tried  to  drown  their  voices,  and 
shouted  his  orders  at  his  loudest. 

"Ready  to  come  about.     Let  go  the  jib-sheet." 

And  the  boat  tacked,  drawing  away  at  right 
angles  to  avoid  a  perilous  set  of  the  current ;  but  all 
the  same  the  quarrel  continued,  more  clamorous  and 
more  deafening. 

"Great  child  of  misery,  sailor  by  sufferance,  you 
gape  in  the  seams.  You  should  be  careened  and 
calked." 

"Wretched  landlubber,  ship's  cook,  you  should 
remain  in  your  pantry.  The  fish  which  has  gone 
ashore  is  spoiled  for  the  sea." 

"Speak  for  yourself,  you  badly  salted  codfish." 

"Wretched  worm." 

In  vain  the  skipper  shouted  :  "Keep  away  to  star- 
board." The  men  no  longer  heard  him,  and  the  jib, 
remaining  as  it  was,  forced  the  boat  in  an  exasper- 
ating fashion  to  port.  The  skipper  broke  out  in 
fury,  stamping  excitedly,  and  leaning  forward 
shouted : 

"Enough,  Silvere,  I  cannot  steer  the  boat.  We 
are  at  the  harbor  bar." 

His  shouts  mingled  with  those  of  the  sailor  astern, 
who  was  urging  Barnab6  on. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  1$ 

"Hou  !  Hou  !  Little  one,  take  a  reef  in  the  big 
fellow's  sail!  He  is  going  to  run.  Overhaul  him 
amidships." 

Barnabe,  as  if  obeying  these  suggestions, 
squared  himself  like  an  athlete  throwing  out  his 
defiance. 

"Come  alongside  a  little,  old  wreck.  Look  out 
for  the  grapnels." 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  you  are  like  a  fish,  strong 
in  the  head  only." 

And  among  these  clamors  the  useless  calls  of  the 
skipper : 

"Quiet  there!  Thunder!  We  are  sagging  off  a 
point.  We  shall  strike.  Starboard !" 

But  his  orders  did  not  reach  the  bow,  so  thor- 
oughly were  they  cut  off  by  the  torrent  of  angry 
words  which  came  clamoring  forth  like  the  noise  of 
a  tempest.  And  above  all  this  tumult  could  be 
heard  the  voice  of  the  sailor  astern : 

"Hou!  Hou!  Little  one,  overhaul  the  big 
fellow  amidships !  He  is  too  tall-masted,  he  will  be 
weak  in  squalls.  Capsize  him ;  turn  him  keel  up- 
ward." 

Barnabe"  advanced  with  his  fists  thrust  forward. 
But  in  an  instant  Silvere's  great  hands  came  down 
upon  him,  sent  him  rolling  over  and  over  even  to 
where  the  sailor  stood,  picked  him  up  again  like  a 
beaten  dog,  and,  holding  him  over  the  boat's  side, 
shook  him  above  the  yawning  abyss  beneath. 

"Let  go,"  bawled  the  sailor  at  the  jigger,  laughing 
uproariously;  "let  go;  he  is  fat  enough  to  float 
alone." 


1 6  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.    , 

Silvere  still  kept  shaking  him. 

"Barnab£,  swear  never  to  do  any  harm  to  Elise. 
Swear,  or  I  will  drop  you."  And  his  two  hands 
tightened  their  grip. 

Barnab£  uttered  a  cry  like  that  of  a  wounded 
beast — a  cry  which  cut  the  air  with  its  shrillness. 
From  the  forecastle  came  hurrying  all  the  sailors, 
snatched  from  their  work  by  this  despairing  appeal. 
Elise  was  foremost.  She  took  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance;  rushing  to  the  guards  she  caught  hold  of 
Barnab£,  and  with  a  half  turn  of  her  arm  threw  him 
on  the  deck  at  the  skipper's  feet. 

But  at  the  same  instant  without  a  shock,  gently, 
like  a  porpoise  as  he  rises,  the  Bon-Pecheur  lay  over 
on  her  side. 

"Aground;  Thunder!"  and  the  skipper's  shout 
went  like  a  shiver  through  the  crew.  The  pressure 
of  the  wind  on  the  sails  pressed  the  keel  still  further 
into  the  sand.  "Let  go  all!"  And  in  an  instant 
every  sail  was  flapping,  and  the  Bon-Pechcur  lay 
still,  lying  well  over,  a  sight  at  once  laughable  and 
pitiable,  like  a  stranded  whale. 

Then,  indeed,  there  were  outbursts  of  rage  on  the 
deck.  Silvere  and  Barnabe  were  threatened.  Elise 
was  accused.  It  was  her  fault.  Was  not  the  skip- 
per forewarned?  Women  are  always  the  cause  of 
trouble.  And  Florimond  thought  to  himself  that 
perhaps  the  sailors  were  right. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THEN  followed  a  tedious  waiting. 

At  first  thought,  the  situation  did  not  appear  very 
serious.  If  the  Bon-Peckeur  could  not  get  off  unas- 
sisted, she  could  easily  be  drawn  into  deep  water  by 
a  few  turns  of  the  wheels  of  a  tug.  By  good  for- 
tune the  bar  on  which  she  had  stranded  was  so  hard 
that  there  was  no  fear  of  those  shifting  sands,  which, 
now  washed  away,  now  washed  back  again,  end  by 
piling  themselves  up  about  a  boat  and  holding  her 
fast  in  their  clutch. 

In  still  days  one  could  have  slept  there  a  year 
through  without  running  more  danger  than  in  one's 
bed ;  but  the  Southern  sky  did  not  promise  settled 
weather.  There  was  a  look  that  betokened  the 
presence  of  wind,  and,  if  it  should  rise,  it  would  bring 
on  a  heavy  swell  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  in  that 
case  the  Bon-Pecheur  would  be  rolled  about  like  a 
cask. 

Silvere  had  gone  off  in  his  boat,  charged  to  take 
the  necessary  steps  to  summon  a  tug  from  the  near- 
est point  possible.  It  was  early  morning  when  he 
left.  They  had  watched  him  until  he  had  reached 
the  wharf,  and  then,  from  the  numbers  crowded 
together  on  the  end  of  the  quay,  could  tell  that  the 
alarm  had  been  given.  But  now  night  was  ap- 
proaching. Time  enough  had  passed  to  account 


1 8  A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

for  any  ordinary  delays,  and  the  men  of  the  Bon- 
Pcelicnr,  standing  about  on  the  deck,  watched  the 
sea  anxiously. 

Florimond  was  the  most  impatient  of  all.  Climb- 
ing on  the  gunwale  he  searched  the  horizon  with  his 
glass.  Steamers  passed  and  repassed,  staining  the 
sky  with  their  train  of  smoke,  but  all  held  an  un- 
changed course,  far  away  from  the  Bon-PccJicnr. 
Not  one  of  them  looked  like  a  tug,  with  its  gray  hull 
and  red  band. 

At  the  same  time  the  -threatened  wind  from  the 
south  began  to  rise,  and  with  it  came  a  heavy  and 
laboring  swell.  Florimond  could  not  contain  him- 
self longer.  He  strode  from  bow  to  stern,  dis- 
tracted between  the  coming  danger  and  the  belated 
succor. 

Seated  at  the  foot  of  the  mast,  Elise  abandoned 
herself  to  melancholy  thoughts.  Although  in  no 
way  responsible  for  their  running  aground,  she  felt 
after  all  an  indirect  responsibility.  It  was  a 
wretched  beginning  of  a  sailor's  life  for  her. 

She  had  her  arm  about  Firmin  and  the  two,  sister 
and  brother,  in  their  attitude  of  distress,  seemed  like 
shipurjcked  mariners.  When  he  cast  his  eye  on 
them  in  his  restless  walk  about  the  deck,  Florimond, 
thinking  of  the  sloop  perhaps  lost,  and  of  the  ruin 
which  he  laid  at  their  doors,  gave  them  a  surly  look 
of  disapprobation.  And  all  the  crew,  sharing  the 
skipper's  feeling,  contemptuously  left  them  alone. 

Barnab£  was  triumphant.  He  went  among  the 
men,  exciting  them  against  Elise.  Why  should 
they  not  demand  at  once  that  this  creature  of  ill- 


A   FISHER    GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  19 

luck  be  put  ashore.  Her  nets  should  be  kept  to 
make  good  the  injury  of  which  she  had  been  the 
cause.  As  he  talked,  he  turned  toward  Elise  with 
threatening  gestures. 

Firmin  could  not  keep  down  his  anger.  He  freed 
himself  from  his  sister's  arm  and  advanced,  his  little 
fist  clenched. 

"Have  you  not  had  enough,  Barnab6?  I  will 
give  you  as  much  more  as  you  wish." 

But  the  landsman  knew  this  time  that  he  was 
backed  by  the  others.  He  would  risk  his  revenge. 
With  foot  and  hand  he  sent  the  child  reeling  heavily 
against  the  bulwark.  There  was  a  hard  dull  thud  as 
he  struck.  Elise  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  ran  to  her 
brother's  help.  It  was  the  signal  for  an  outburst. 
The  men,  mad  with  anxiety,  were  by  this  time  ready 
for  anything.  They  came  headlong  at  Barnabe's 
cry. 

"Let  us  make  an  end  of  this  Lison !  She  eats  our 
bread!  She  sends  her  lover  to  shipwreck  us! 
Overboard  with  her!" 

And  losing  their  heads  at  his  outcries,  full  of 
desire  for  vengeance,  without  stopping  to  think,  the 
sailors  closed  around  their  victim,  each  man  invol- 
untarily stretching  out  his  arms  to  seize  her.  On 
her  knees,  bent  forward,  Elise  hid  her  pale  face 
between  her  arms,  while  she  covered  Firmin  with  her 
body.  Then  she  closed  her  eyes,  to  escape  the  sight 
at  least  of  death.  Her  fingers  dug  themselves  into 
her  blouse.  She  felt  herself  dragged,  then  lifted  up 
and  carried  along;  she  had  a  feeling  of  space,  a  fear 
of  the  yawning  gulf.  Resigned,  without  hate  and 


20  A   FISHEK   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

without  bitterness,  she  gave  way  to  her  distress  and 
murmured : 

"Farewell,  dear  Firmin,  I  am  going  to  our  father!" 
Suddenly  she  felt  herself  falling.  She  'struck  on 
the  boat's  edge,  then,  half  stunned,  fell  headlong  into 
the  sea.  Entangled  in  the  folds  of  her  oilskin  dress, 
she  struck  out  blindly  like  a  drowning  cat.  It 
seemed  to  her  as  if  a  gulf  opened  beneath  her,  and 
that  brutal  laughter  and  jeering  outburst  from  over- 
head sought  her  out  and  followed  her,  even  under 
the  wave.  Her  ears  hummed,  her  eyes  opened  de- 
spairingly, the  water  in  her  throat  strangled  her. 
Then,  vaguely,  came  a  supreme  desire  to  live;  she 
was  in  a  last  revolt  at  this  wrong  of  destiny,  which 
forced  her  to  die  before  her  time,  and  splashing 
'unconsciously,  she  came  to  the  surface  again.  It 
was  for  an  instant  only,  merely  time  to  draw  one 
more  breath  of  air  and  life.  Then,  and  this  time 
without  hope  and  nearly  without  consciousness,  she 
sank  under  her  own  weight. 

What  freshness!  what  peace!  Her  temples  beat 
less  strongly,  and  her  chest  rose  and  fell  quietly,  as 
her  breath  came  and  went.  Who,  then,  had  seized 
her  and  snatched  her  from  nothingness?  All  her 
senses  came  to  life  again.  What  was  this?  Oaths 
and  bad  language !  Tonnerre  !  School  of  sharks ! 
Pirates ! 

She  opened  her  eyes.  She  was  on  the  deck,  and 
bending  over  her  a  young  blond  sailor,  with  eyes 
like  the  gray  of  the  skies,  and  with  a  pleasant  voice, 
watched  her  with  a  respectful  admiration. 


A   FISHEK   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  21 

"Mam'selle  Elise,  it  is  I,  Chretien;  do  you  recog- 
nize me?  The  rascals  would  have  drowned  you,  like 
a  fly  in  a  great  cup.  I  was  just  in  time  to  save  you." 

"Sharks!  Pirates!"  Then  Elise  saw  Florimond, 
armed  with  a  grapnel,  striking  right  and  left  among 
the  sailors.  Near  her,  by  the  side  of  the  uncon- 
scious Firmin,  she  discovered  Barnabe  stretched 
senseless,  his  forehead  slashed  with  blood. 

"Firmin,  my  child!" 

At  that  instant,  at  a  sinister  whistling  in  the  rig- 
ging, there  was  a  sudden  outburst. 

"The  wind!     It  is  coining  to  destroy  us!" 

Elise  raised  herself.  Tottering  still,  she  kept  her 
feet  by  a  strong  effort  of  will.  With  an  uncertain 
step  she  reached  Firmin,  collected  all  her  energies, 
and,  finding  her  strength  come  back  as  she  put  it  to 
the  test,  raised  the  boy  in  her  arms  and  carried  him 
to  the  forecastle.  There  she  put  him  into  a  bunk, 
covered  him  warmly,  and  tucked  him  in  well. 
Then,  dripping  still,  without  waiting  to  put  on  dry 
clothes,  without  taking  breath  even,  she  hurried 
back,  to  be  ready  for  anything  in  facing  this  new 
assault  of  death. 

A  great  wave  was  advancing  at  frightful  speed, 
threatening  to  engulf  the  sloop  under  its  mass.  Its 
crest,  white  with  spray,  was  hardly  a  hundred  fath- 
oms away.  The  sailors  ran  to  and  fro,  arms  in  air 
like  crazy  men,  except  Florimond,  who,  counting 
only  on  the  jigger,  held  himself  ready. 

"A  man  to  the  helm  !     Keep  to  starboard !" 

Whoever  took  the  tiller  would  meet  all  the  force 
of  the  wave.  What  of  that !  Elise  ran  forward. 


22  A  FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

"No,  not  the  girl !  Tonnerre  !  She  is  too  weak 
in  the  arms." 

But  the  wave  was  now  not  more  than  twenty 
fathoms  away.  There  was  no  time  for  hesitation. 
Elise  stayed  at  her  post. 

"Hold  hard  !     Tonnerre  !  " 

The  sailors  clung  desperately  to  the  ropes.  The 
wave  broke  over  them. 

"Courage,  Lison,  port,  port !     Tonnerre  /  " 

With  all  the  strength  of  her  muscles,  with  all  her 
might  and  main,  Elise  threw  her  weight  on  the 
tiller.  The  sloop  careened  in  a  mad  plunge,  as  if  she 
was  lying  down  to  die.  The  masts  almost  touched 
the  water.  Everything  rolled  about  the  deck,  the 
flying  rigging,  the  ropes,  and  the  body  of  Barnabe. 
The  men  were  up  to  their  waists  in  water.  Elise 
kept  her  footing.  Then  a  new  uproar!  Everything 
again  afloat !  The  sloop  righted,  careened,  plunged  ! 
A  blow  harder  than  any  yet  drove  her  forward.  As 
she  righted,  she  lay  on  an  even  keel.  She  was 
afloat.  "Hoist  all  sail!"  As  if  giddy  with  joy, 
swept  onward  in  safety  by  the  wind,  the  Bon-Pecheur 
darted  forward,  forgetting  all  past  dangers. 

Proud  of  her  flowing  sail  she  was  off,  weathering 
buoys  and  beacons,  coming  about  according  to  the 
currents.  She  had  such  a  frenzy  of  speed  that  she 
hardly  saw  the  tug,  which  was  soon  far  astern.  It 
came  too  late  with  its  gray  hull  and  red  band,  and 
see-sawing  on  its  paddles,  kept  on  its  course  to  find 
the  wreck  that  was  a  wreck  no  longer. 

And  presently,  the  Bon-Pfaheur,  having  passed  all 


A  FISHER  G:RL  OF  FRANCE.  23 

present  danger,  ran  northward  before  the  wind 
under  full  sail. 

Behind  her  the  Bay  of  Somme  was  no  more  than 
a  white  speck.  The  dunes  of  St.  Quentin  and  those 
of  Berck  melted  into  a  blue  line.  The  heights  of 
Etaples  and  the  cliffs  of  Boulogne  appeared  and 
disappeared  in  their  turn,  then  the  sands  of  Gris- 
Nez  and  then — nothing  more,  nothing  but  the  sea 
which,  now  lighted  by  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun, 
soon  grew  dark  under  the  shadows  of  night. 

When  she  saw  the  Channel  behind  them  and  dan- 
ger at  end,  Elise  left  the  tiller  to  return  to  the  fore- 
castle, where  she  could  be  with  Firmin.  The  boy 
had  recovered  consciousness.  He  had  no  wound. 
The  shock  of  the  blow  alone  had  upset  him. 

If  a  sailor  has  a  little  fever,  he  is  badly  off  in  his 
close  and  ill-ventilated  quarters  under  deck.  They 
are  but  one  great  room,  occupied  in  common.  Eat- 
ing, drinking,  and  cooking  go  on  there,  and  round- 
about gape  the  sleeping  bunks.  There  is  no  air. 
Daylight  comes  only  through  the  opening  to  the 
deck.  The  hatch  serves  at  once  as  a  door  and  a 
window.  When  the  weather  is  bad  it  must  be 
closed,  and  nothing  can  be  worse  than  the  air  in  that 
confined  little  place.  It  is  flavored  with  fish  chow- 
der, soiled  clothes,  grilled  onions,  and  tobacco 
smoke.  Seated  about  on  their  chests,  some  of  the 
sailors  manage  their  potato  soup  and  fish  between 
two  whiffs  of  a  pipe,  while,  in  the  bunks,  those  who 
have  the  next  watch  are  sleeping  two  by  two. 

Ordinarily  at  this  time,  one  hears  nothing  but  the 


24  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

noise  of  eating  and  the  snoring  of  the  sleepers. 
When  he  is  not  working  the  sailor  is  little  of  a 
talker.  But  on  this  night,  at  each  roll,  a  groan  broke 
the  half  silence.  It  came  from  Barnab£,  who  had 
been  picked  up  half  dead,  and  put  in  the  last  bunk, 
to  get  well  or  die,  as  his  lot  might  be. 

Never  be  ill  on  a  fishing  boat.  A  plank  without 
mattress  or  coverings  makes  a  hard  bed.  Sailors 
have  kind  hearts,  but  it  is  a  matter  of  pride  with 
them  to  appear  insensible  to  suffering  of  their  own 
or  of  others.  And  for  the  dolorous  moans  of  a 
wounded  man  they  have  no  more  ears  than  for  the 
lamentations  of  an  old  woman.  It  is  a  tradition 
among  them  that  a  man  should  die  without  making 
a  noise. 

Elise  felt  otherwise.  She  was  a  woman,  and, 
though  fate  had  made  her  take  up  a  man's  work, 
she  was  born,  like  other  women,  to  nurse  and  to  heal. 
She  was  stirred  to  the  bottom  of  her  heart  at  each 
wail  of  the  wounded  man,  whose  condition  she 
could  imagine.  They  had  slipped  the  unhappy 
wretch,  without  giving  him  further  attention,  into  a 
bunk  in  which  ordinarily  two  men  slept  together  to 
keep  each  other  warm,  and  there  he  rolled  about  at 
the  caprice  of  the  waves.  The  blow  of  the  grapnel, 
which  the  skipper  had  dealt  him,  had  laid  his  fore- 
head open,  and  the  pitching  of  the  sloop  kept  his 
wound  raw  by  grinding  it  against  the  plank. 

Twenty  times  had  Elise  wished  to  run  to  his  help, 
but  Firmin's  hand  was  in  hers,  and  he  held  her  fast 
at  every  attempt. 

"You  are  not  kind,  Firmin.     I  will  not  be  gone 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  25 

long.  You  are  molly-coddled.  You  have  only  to 
go  to  sleep.  It  is  Barnabe's  turn  to  be  helped." 

"No,  he  has  been  too  hateful  to  you.  Your  help- 
ing him  will  not  prevent  his  making  you  wretched." 

But  a  rougher  blow  made  the  boat  shake,  and  a 
more  heartrending  wail  came  from  the  last  bunk. 
Elise  freed  her  hand. 

"Let  me  go,  Firmin,  I  do  not  love  you  when  you 
are  selfish." 

She  went  directly  to  the  bunk  where  Barnabe  lay 
groaning.  Nothing  could  be  seen  in  that  dark  hole. 
She  called  for  help.  It  was  Chretien  who  came — 
Chretien,  the  young  blond  with  the  pleasant  voice. 

"Hurry,  Mam'selle  Elise.  It  will  be  your  watch 
soon,  and  you  have  not  slept." 

"One  should  think  of  the  sick  before  one's  self." 

"If  you  will  let  me,  I  will  take  your  watch.  A 
man  runs  less  risk." 

"Thanks,  Chretien,  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  fatigue, 
but  I  will  change  my  watch  with  you  from  neces- 
sity. I  can  be  useful  here.  Bring  a  light  quickly." 

Chretien  lighted  a  candle  stuck  in  the  neck  of  a 
bottle.  By  its  gleam  Elise  made  out  the  wounded 
man,  who  was  rolling  from  side  to  side,  his  mouth 
open,  his  lips  dry. 

Without  loss  of  time  she  set  to  work,  heart  and 
soul.  Going  to  the  bunk,  she  mopped  up  the  blood 
from  the  boards,  and  hurried  for  her  bags  and 
bundles,  which  she  brought  to  wedge  Barnab6  in. 
She  improvised  compresses,  and  made  a  bandage 
and  put  it  on.  Then  she  took  the  largest  bowl, 
filled  it  with  warm  water  and  rum,  and  carefully 


26  A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

lifted  it  to  the  wounded  man's  mouth.  At  the 
refreshing  odor  he  opened  his  eyes,  sought  the  drink 
with  eager  lips  and,  his  thirst  quenched,  fell  back, 
throwing  at  Elise  a  long  look  of  recognition. 

At  the  same  moment  came  whistling  through  the 
hatch  a  blast  of  fresh  air,  which  whirled  about  the 
heavy  vapors  of  the  place  and,  passing  over  the  can- 
dles, put  them  out,  one  after  another. 

"It  is  pleasant  down  here,  my  lads.  On  deck  a 
wind  to  skin  the  devil." 

And  notwithstanding  the  darkness,  Florimond, 
from  old  acquaintance  with  the  place,  went  from 
bunk  to  bunk  to  wake  the  men  of  the  next  watch. 

"Come!  Time  for  the  relief.  It  is  the  others' 
turn  for  the  chowder." 

The  men  shook  themselves  and  stretched  their 
legs.  When  they  had  groped  about  and  found  their 
oilskin  hats,  they  made  their  way  among  the  boxes, 
and  went  out  through  a  new  inrush  of  fresh  air. 

The  others  came  from  the  deck  to  take  their 
places.  The  hatch  was  shut  again,  the  candles 
lighted,  and  Florimond,  seeing  Elise,  clapped  her 
roisghly  on  the  shoulder. 

"You  are  a  fine  sailor!  Without  the  help  of  us 
both,  the  sloop  would  have  wallowed  like  a  dead 
whale.  They  did  not  despise  you  then,  those  fel- 
lows. It  was  an  ugly  moment,  all  the  same." 

And  without  further  words,  happy  in  the  assur- 
ance of  duty  done  and  a  dinner  earned,  Florimond 
sat  himself  down  on  the  chest  by  the  side  of  Elise, 
the  jug  of  cider  between  his  feet  and  the  foaming 
bowl  on  his  knees.  Soup  tastes  better  when  it  has 
been  well  earned. 


THE  JUG  BETWEEN  HIS   FEET  AND   THE  FOAMING  BOWL 
ON   HIS   KNEES. 


Chap.  3. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

EVERYWHERE  the  sea,  but  not  everywhere  fish. 
During  the  five  days  that  they  had  been  on  the 
grounds,  a  hundred  land  miles  north  of  Scotland,  the 
Bon-Pcchenr  had  spread  her  nets  in  vain.  She  had 
cast  them  to  right  and  left,  she  had  followed  up 
boats  which  were  on  the  grounds  before  her,  but  in 
whatever  place,  at  whatever  depth  they  were 
stretched,  they  had  caught  nothing  but  the  worth- 
less white-nose  herring,  who  travel  in  small  com- 
panies. 

It  was  the  black  noses  that  they  were  after. 
They  are  the  true  travellers.  There  are  millions  in 
a  single  school. 

The  herring  often  reveals  his  presence  by  his 
peculiar  odor,  by  his  oily  trail,  and  by  his  peeping 
and  chirping,  for  he  makes  a  noise  like  that  of  rain 
falling  on  water.  The  Bon-Pecheur  had  neither  seen 
nor  heard  anything. 

Florimond  was  in  despair.  He  kept  the  men 
putting  out  and  taking  in  the  nets  without  cessation. 
On  a  stretch  many  thousand  feet  long  they  would 
take  nothing  but  a  hundred  white  noses ;  those  bony 
troublers  of  the  nets  who  were  not  worth  salting. 
The  men  became  unreasonable,  and  showed  their 
disappointment  by  their  negligence  and  by  their 
carelessness  at  work.  They  wished  to  go  further 


*8  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

north.  Perhaps  the  fish  were  belated.  It  would  be 
better  to  go  to  meet  them  than  to  wait. 

Florimond  would  not  yield.  They  were  in  the 
latitude  where  the  herring  showed  themselves  every 
year  at  this  time.  They  would  see  them  if  they 
kept  a  sharp  lookout.  The  men  were  not  con- 
vinced, and  the  longer  their  search  proved  useless, 
the  less  hesitation  had  they  in  showing  their  dis- 
content. 

Elise,  on  the  other  hand,  displayed  great  zeal  in 
backing  Florimond  in  this  fight  against  bad  luck. 
She  won  in  this  way  the  ill-will  of  the  crew,  who 
accused  her,  without  ceasing,  of  flattering  the  skip- 
per and  encouraging  him  in  his  obstinacy.  First 
and  foremost  with  her  was  duty.  She  would  never 
allow  Firmin  to  hesitate  to  obey  an  order.  Often 
when  she  found  him  dilatory,  or  kicking  at  the  sail- 
ors' taunts,  she  would  coax  him  back  to  obedience 
and  good  humor,  two  things  which  a  sailor  should 
never  lack. 

When  she  had  a  chance,  she  looked  after  Barnabe. 
At  first  she  had  taken  the  time  from  sleep  to  watch 
him.  When  she  was  not  free  herself,  when  she 
was  on  duty,  she  sent  Firmin  to  see  if  the  wounded 
man  needed  drink  or  to  have  his  wound  dressed. 

The  lad,  less  forgetful  of  injuries,  lent  himself 
with  a  bad  grace  to  these  generous  actions.  Elise 
scolded  him,  and  tried  to  punish  him  by  a  severe 
look,  but  she  was  quickly  disarmed  before  his  square 
face,  which  took  on  a  comic  pretence  of  being 
frightened  at  her  reproof. 

In  fact,  without  Elise,  Barnab£  would  have  died 


A    FISHER   G'/A'L    Ol<    FRANCE.  29 

of  neglect.  In  his  overworked  life  the  sailor  cannot 
take  care  of  his  fellows,  since  he  has  all  he  can  do  to 
find  time  for  eating  and  sleeping.  But  as  Flori- 
mond  said,  women  know  how  to  spin  out  the  time, 
and  for  Elise  the  moments  seemed  to  stop  short,  so 
much  care  did  she  give  him  and  so  heartily. 

Barnabe  knew  what  it  cost  her,  for  thanks  to  her 
and  his  strong  constitution  he  was  nearly  well.  He 
had  not  yet  been  on  deck,  but  was  about  the  fore- 
castle, which  he  filled  with  his  sonorous  voice. 
When  his  companions  came  in  he  seized  on  them 
and  called  them  to  witness  the  merits  of  Elise. 
He  praised  her  with  the  same  violence  with  which 
he  had  slandered  her,  never  failing  to  exclaim  that 
she  was  worth  the  whole  crew,  skipper  included. 
He  had  heard  them  tell  how  she  had  taken  the  helm 
when  they  were  aground,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
declare  to  every  one  that  without  her  they  would 
have  been  biting  the  sands  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

He  said  so  much  and  said  it  so  noisily,  this  brawl- 
ing Barnab6,  that  Florimond  became  impatient  of 
hearing  it,  and  was  offended  at  seeing  his  authority 
as  skipper  weighed  in  the  balance  against  the  pres- 
tige of  a  young  girl.  They  would  be  saying  next 
that  Elise  alone  had  saved  the  boat.  Child  as  she 
was,  would  she  have  been  able  to  withstand  such  a 
blow  had  he  not  softened  the  shock  by  his  play  of 
the  jigger  sail,  at  the  risk  of  being  carried  away  with 
the  canvas? 

He  would  not  acknowledge  it  to  himself,  but  he 
was  jealous  at  witnessing  this  growing  reputation  of 
a  stranger  on  his  own  boat.  He  took  care  that 


3°  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

Elise  should  not  be  on  duty  when  there  was  a 
chance  for  her  to  show  her  courage  or  strength. 
He  affected  to  consider  her  a  weak  and  feeble  creat- 
ure, in  order  to  belittle  her  in  her  standing  as  a  sailor. 
He  spoke  to  her  in  a  tone  of  fatherly  consideration. 

.'You  do  not  sulk  over  the  work,  Lise,  but  you 
have  not  strength  for  it.  It  is  not  to  be  expected 
that  you  should.  It  would  be  unreasonable  to 
demand  as  much  work  from  you  as  from  the 
others." 

"But,  Cousin  Florimond,  do  I  not  work  hard 
enough?  I  try  to  let  no  one  see  a  difference." 

"I  do  not  say  no,  but  a  strong  arm  cannot  be  had 
by  wishing.  A  woman  has  never  a  man's  strength." 

Elise  revolted  against  this  undeserved  censure. 
She  turned  pale  and  the  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes, 
but  she  held  them  back  that  no  one  might  see  her 
trouble. 

"Do  you  think  I  have  been  a  failure  through  lack 
of  strength,  cousin?  What  will  become  of  me,  if 
you  do  not  stand  my  friend?" 

Florimond  was  a  better  man  than  appearances 
made  him  out.  He  had  the  highest  opinion  of 
Elise,  but  he  did  not  wish  it  to  be  seen  by  the  crew, 
and,  embarrassed  at  his  own  injustice,  he  broke  off 
his  talk  abruptly. 

"Come,  Lise!  Talking  is  not  everything,  we 
must  work.  The  nets  must  be  set,  it  is  the  slack  of 
the  tide." 

The  quarter  of  an  hour  of  rest  which  the  sea  takes 
at  the  changing  of  the  tide  comes,  in  that  open  sea, 
two  hours  after  it  comes  on  the  coast.  It  is  the 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  f  RANGE.  31 

best  time  for  fishing,  for  there  is  no  movement  of 
the  water,  nothing  to  sweep  the  fish  from  the  net. 

The  almanac  announced  the  slack  for  that  morn- 
ing at  nine  o'clock.  It  was  then  six.  It  was  high 
time  to  begin  their  preparations. 

The  soundings  showed  conditions  that  the  her- 
ring fancy;  forty  fathoms  of  water  over  a  bed  of 
gravel.  The  breeze  was  favorable.  Though  very 
light,  it  had  kept  up  fairly  fresh  since  the  last  squall. 
The  sea  was  not  quite  smooth,  and  yet  had  not 
enough  swell  to  trouble  the  fish.  It  was  after  the 
full  moon  and,  according  to  all  signs,  the  fish  ought 
to  swim  high. 

Florimond  took  a  sharp  look  at  the  weather  and, 
having  taken  counsel  of  his  experience,  gave  out  his 
orders  with  the  full  force  of  his  lungs. 

"Come  then,  my  lads,  all  on  deck.  Get  the  floats 
ready." 

These  floats  are  barrels  to  which  the  net  is  fas- 
tened when  it  is  set.  Around  the  middle  of  each 
are  some  ten  turns  of  rope  of  a  fathom's  length 
each,  and  this  is  let  out  or  taken  up  according  as  it 
is  desired  that  the  net  shall  lie  high  or  low  in  the 
sea  to  intercept  the  fish.  Overhauling  the  floats  is 
the  first  thing  to  be  done.  They  are  brought  from 
where  they  are  stored,  their  ropes  are  arranged  at 
the  proper  length,  and  they  are  piled  up  on  deck  to 
be  at  hand  the  moment  they  are  needed. 

But  one  would  have  said  that  the  skipper  had  not 
been  heard.  Elise  alone  stepped  forward.  All  the 
other  hands  stayed  in  the  forecastle,  silent  and 
motionless,  as  if  they  were  obeying  a  command. 


3 2  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

Nevertheless  the  hatch  was  half  open,  and  there 
was  nothing  to  prevent  his  voice  reaching  those  for 
whom  it  was  meant.  Florimond  repeated  his  order 
in  a  rough  tone.  He  was  not  more  successful  than 
before.  Then  he  ran  to  the  hatch,  and  with  a  blow 
of  his  foot  forced  it  wide  open.  Bending  over  the 
gaping  hole,  and  making  a  trumpet  of  his  two 
hands,  he  shouted  with  all  the  strength  of  his  lungs: 

"Do  you  hear  me,  deaf  ears?  All  on  deck!  Get 
the  floats  out !" 

His  shout  resounded  menacingly;  the  boarding 
of  the  forecastle  vibrated ;  but  the  men  did  not 
move. 

"Have  a  care!  I  am  going  for  a  marline-spike;  I 
will  warm  your  legs,  if  you  are  frozen  there!  Have 
a  care !  Tonncrrc  !  " 

Then  there  was  a  movement  in  the  place,  a  noise 
of  words  rapidly  interchanged  in  a  lo\v  tone,  and  of 
steps  coming  from  all  sides.  One  by  one,  silently, 
mechanically,  as  if  moved  by  the  same  thought,  the 
men  climbed  the  hatchway  ladder  and  massed  them- 
selves on  the  deck,  firm,  resolute,  all  crying  at  the 
same  time: 

"There  is  no  use  in  fishing  here  any  longer.  You 
are  making  us  lose  the  season.  We  wish  to  go 
north." 

Florimond  was  not  the  man  to  allow  himself  to 
be  intimidated,  young  as  he  was.  He  was  barely 
twenty-five,  but  he  overawed  them  all  by  his  tall 
figure  and  his  powerful  bearing.  He  had  been  a 
sailor  since  his  earliest  youth.  He  had  a  trained 
eye  and  sound  judgment  on  everything  connected 


A   FISHER   G1RI.    OF  FRANCE.  33 

with  the  sea.  He  had  the  reputation  of  being  one 
of  the  best  skippers  on  their  coast,  and  proud  of  his 
standing,  no  threats  could  make  him  flinch  before  a 
sailor.  The  men  knew  him  well,  and  knew  that  he 
could  hold  his  own  alone  against  a  dozen  of  them. 
He  looked  them  over  from  head  to  foot,  and  said 
haughtily: 

"You  know  the  orders;  get  the  floats  ready. 
Two  fathoms  of  rope." 

"No,  we  will  not  set  the  nets,  unless  further 
north." 

"Toanerrel  Get  the  floats,  or  I  will  take  you 
back  to  port.  There  you  can  explain  your  reasons 
to  the  Commissaire  of  Marines." 

The  sailors  looked  at  one  another.  Chretien,  the 
most  timid,  began  to  hesitate.  The  others  seized 
him  and  forced  him  back  into  the  ranks. 

"We  will  duck  you,  if  you  turn  traitor." 

Elise  stepped  toward  him. 

"Come,  Chretien.  A  sailor's  ear  should  hear  the 
captain's  orders." 

He  seemed  bewildered.  He  wavered,  and  his 
glance  went.  from  his  comrades  to  Florimond,  as  if 
demanding  direction  or  counsel.  All  at  once  he 
shook  his  shoulders,  stuck  out  his  elbows,  and 
throwing  off  the  hands  that  tried  to  hold  him  back, 
ran  forward  to  obey. 

For  some  time  Elise  had  been  looking  for  Firmin. 
She  saw  him  at  last,  sheltered  behind  a  group  of  big 
fellows,  and  divined  by  his  frowning  brow  and  his 
fixed  glance  that  he  was  in  sympathy  with  the 
mutinous  steps  of  his  companions.  With  a  bound 


34  A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

she  was  at  his  side.  She  took  him  by  the  shoulder 
and  drew  him  away  with  a  movement  of  maternal 
authority,  at  the  same  time  vigorous  and  wheedling. 
But  the  little  man  was  intoxicated  by  the  air  of 
insubordination  which  was  about  the  deck.  He 
struggled  with  all  the  freedom  of  his  obstinate  soul, 
for  he  did  not  wish  any  one  to  think  him  a  coward. 
When  a  man  is  one  of  a  crew  he  should  share  with 
them  all  that  comes,  good  and  bad  alike. 

Elise  saw  his  frowns.  And,  though  he  was  so 
amusing,  in  his  determination  to  mutiny,  slje  was 
troubled.  She  picked  him  up  in  her  arms,  and, 
pressing  him  to  her  breast  to  prevent  his  striking 
her,  stemmed  his  cries,  as  they  came  from  his 
mouth,  with  a  kiss.  Then  she  carried  him  to  the 
very  stern  of  the  boat,  where  Chretien  was  waiting. 

"Oh,  the  traitors!"  cried  the  sailors. 

But,  disconcerted  by  these  gaps  in  their  ranks, 
they  broke  apart  and  grumblingly  set  to  work. 

Florimond  instantly  recovered  his  paternal  ways. 

"I  know  that  you  are  more  wrinkled  outside  than 
in.  Your  hearts  are  good,  if  your  faces  are  bad. 
Down  with  the  jib.  Furl  the  jigger-sail." 

At  a  stroke,  in  the  bows  and  at  the  stern,  the  sails 
were  reefed  to  give  room  for  work.  The  time  had 
come  to  get  the  nets  in  shape. 

The  nets  are  great  strips  of  meshes  fastened 
together  in  such  a  way  as  to  extend  without  end. 
A  thick,  strong  hawser  stretches  their  whole  length, 
to  which  they  are  tied  and  by  which  they  are  lifted. 
Thus  made  fast  they  drop  into  the  sea  like  a  great 
partition,  or  rather  like  an  open-work  barrier  across 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  35 

the  way,  whose  meshes  are  large  or  small  according 
to  the  fish  they  are  intended  to  catch.  They  let 
him  pass  half  way  through,  holding  him  at  the 
swelling  of  the  belly.  If  he  tries  to  back  out,  his 
scales  hold  him  fast.  Try  as  he  may  to  free  him- 
self, the  fish  in  the  net  is  a  prisoner. 

And  this  wall  of  netting  can  be  stretched  for  a 
league.  It  is  left  in  the  sea  a  longer  or  shorter  time, 
according  to  the  weather.  As  the  breeze  was  soft 
and  the  sea  smooth,  the  skipper  wished  to  take 
advantage  of  the  calm  to  try  every  chance.  He 
ordered  that  all  the  nets  should  be  set.  It  was  a 
fortune  which  he  was  trusting  to  the  sea. 

"Come,  my  lads,"  he  cried,  "this  time  I  have  an 
idea  that  we  shall  not  pull  them  up  empty." 

The  day  came  out  warm.  At  this  season,  by  this 
hour  in  the  morning,  the  sun  is  already  high.  Its 
rays  beat  as  hardly  as  at  noon.  A  heavy  atmos- 
phere weighed  on  men  and  things.  The  work 
seemed  particularly  fatiguing  to  the  sailors  on  the 
Bon-PecJienr.  Setting  the  nets  is,  besides,  at  all 
times,  a  long  and  fatiguing  task,  which  keeps  the 
men  working  breathlessly  for  two  hours.  The  boat 
moves  at  the  speed  of  a  knot  and  a  half,  and  the 
nets  must  be  all  ready  to  be  thrown  over  as  she 
goes. 

A  part  of  the  crew  is  stationed  at  the  stern,  and 
each  man  has  his  special  task.  Three  or  four  of 
them  draw  out  the  nets  from  where  they  arc  stored, 
passing  them  from  hand  to  hand  to  untangle  them, 
and  to  clear,  where  they  occur  along  their  length 
at  short  distances,  the  cords  which  fasten  them  to 


36  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

the  hawser.  Thus  disentangled  the  nets  are  carried 
to  the  boatswain,  who  is  the  soul  of  the  work. 

He  has  no  time  to  amuse  himself — the  boatswain. 
While  the  nets  are  drawn  by  him  on  the  right,  the 
hawser,  unrolled  on  his  left,  is  drawn  by  a  cabin  boy, 
and  to  this  he  ties  the  cords  as  fast  as  they  appear. 

He  is  the  centre  of  action.  But  this  day  every 
one  seemed  lazy. 

Firmin,  who  handled  the  hawser,  passed  it  along 
slowly.  Chretien,  who  was  boatswain,  showed  more 
languor  than  was  natural.  He  seemed,  by  the  slow- 
ness of  his  work,  to  wish  to  recover  the  standing 
which  he  had  lost  among  the  men,  and  to  please  his 
comrades  he  assumed  their  careless  ways. 

Florimond  had  at  first  tried  to  arouse  their  sleep- 
ing energy,  but  he  ran  against  a  wall  of  inertia,  and 
seeing  that  a  bad  feeling  was  springing  up,  avoided 
any  action  which  would  bring  it  to  a  head.  He  had 
resigned  himself  to  see  the  work  badly  done,  and  to 
say  nothing. 

Elise,  on  the  other  hand,  was  consumed  with  im- 
patience. She  was  not  one  of  the  first  set  of  work- 
ers, and  waited  on  deck  for  the  time  to  change  shifts. 
Amid  all  this  bungling  it  made  her  especially 
wretched  to  see  Firmin  act  like  the  rest.  In  vain 
did  she  whisper  in  his  ear  encouragement,  re- 
proaches, prayers.  She  was  depressed  to  find,  in  the 
lad  she  loved  so  well,  such  an  obstinate  resistance. 

The  hawser  and  the  nets  were  payed  out  so  much 
more  slowly  than  the  boat  sailed,  that  they  were 
dragged  at  the  risk  of  tearing  them.  They,  too, 
seemed  impatient  at  the  men's  slowness. 


A   FISHER   CIRJ.    OF  FRAXCE.  37 

Nothing  could  be  more  painful  to  see  than  this 
lack  of  accord  between  the  sloop  and  the  work. 
Excited  and  nervous,  Elise  could  not  restrain  herself 
longer.  She  ran  to  Chretien  and  pushed  him  aside. 

"Go !  You  have  no  right  to  set  an  example  of  a 
bad  workman." 

Then  she  took  his  place. 

"Come,  Firmin,  hurry,  my  little  man.  Quick,  the 
boat  will  not  wait." 

And  setting  vigorously  to  work,  waking  up  the 
sailors,  she  seized  the  cords  as  they  flew  past,  and 
tied  them  to  the  hawser  without  stopping  an  instant. 
All  her  figure  was  alive  and  in  action,  as  her  hands 
worked.  And  the  nets  now  went  overboard  in 
keeping  with  the  boat's  speed. 

Then  there  was  a  furor  of  work  on  the  deck. 
Everything  was  forgotten,  the  heaviness  of  the 
atmosphere,  the  recent  discouragement,  the  spirit 
of  insubordination.  All  were  hurrying  to  and  fro 
in  their  enthusiasm.  Florimontl  only  had  a  feeling 
of  bitterness  and  gloom.  He  saw  that  there  was  a 
stronger  power  than  his  on  the  boat.  He  was  now 
no  more  than  half  skipper. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Two  whole  hours  the  men  were  busily  at  work 
rigging  the  nets.  But  finally  the  last  piece  of  them 
went  overboard,  taking  with  it  the  last  float. 

The  main-sail  was  taken  in,  while  the  little  stern- 
sail  was  spread  to  keep  steerage  way  on  the  boat. 
Then  the  Bon-PecJicur  came  into  the  wind  and  let 
herself  be  towed  by  the  nets,  which  drifted  gently  in 
the  current. 

Two  men  were  enough  to  watch  the  deck,  because 
the  fish  catch  themselves.  The  herring  do  the 
work,  one  has  only  to  wait  for  them.  The  sailors 
sauntered  back  to  the  forecastle.  It  was  time  to 
eat  and  sleep. 

But  Florimond  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to 
follow  them  without  giving  a  last  look  to  the  fleet 
of  casks,  which  seemed  a  line  of  great  birds  placed  at 
equal  distances  like  so  many  scouts. 

All  the  fortune  of  the  crew  floated  with  the  cur- 
rent. What  a  risk  it  was,  and,  after  all,  they  might 
catch  nothing.  Florimond  did  not  feel  quite  easy 
in  his  mind.  Perhaps  he  had  been  wrong  to  be  so 
obstinate.  The  herring  is  like  the  sardine.  It  has 
no  fixed  habits,  it  is  here  to-day  and  there  to- 
morrow. Had  he  been  really  wise  in  reckoning  on 
finding  them  where  he  was?  But  what  a  knock- 
down blow  to  a  skipper,  to  be  obliged  to  give  way  to 

38 


ALL  THE  FORTUNE    OF  THE   CREW   FLOATED   WITH   THE  CURRENT. 


Chap.   5. 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  39 

his  sailors!  He  resolved  to  yield,  nevertheless,  if 
the  fish  did  not  put  in  an  appearance  at  once. 

Full  of  disquiet,  his  frowns  showed  his  internal 
struggles.  As  far  as  eye  could  reach  he  could  see 
neither  trace  nor  sign  of  fish.  Not  a  whale,  nor  one 
of  those  voracious  birds  which  follow  the  herring  as 
their  sure  prey.  Here  and  there  other  boats  were 
fishing  in  the  same  fashion  as  themselves.  They 
also  had  selected  the  same  grounds.  If  he  was  de- 
ceived, others  were  also. 

Nevertheless  there  was  a  chance  that  the  fish  were 
lying  under  those  banks  of  light  mist  which,  here 
in  the  North,  blot  out  half  the  horizon.  Above  all 
things  the  fishermen  hate  those  heavy  fogs  which, 
caused  by  the  heat,  come  before  the  season,  causing 
the  loss  of  many  a  small  boat  and  entangling  many 
a  net.  It  is  an  ugly  piece  of  work  to  lift  more  than 
two  thousand  fathoms  of  nets  at  such  a  time. 

In  the  North  the  fogs  act  as  if  malicious.  Flori- 
mond,  since  he  could  not  see  the  fish,  tried  to  smell 
them,  and  inhaled  a  long  breath.  What  was  this  in 
the  air,  this  odor  bitter-sweet,  whose  flavor  delighted 
the  nostrils  of  the  man  who  recognized  it? 

A  sudden  thrill  of  joy  ran  through  the  skipper. 
In  his  blue  eyes  flashed  sudden  gleams,  and  his  com- 
pressed lips  relaxed  in  a  broad  smile.  With  his  two 
hands  he  made  a  telescope  to  see  more  clearly,  and 
to  pierce  the  mist. 

Was  it  not  scattering?  The  breeze  had  without 
doubt  become  stronger,  and  was  driving  the  mist 
before  it  like  a  light  smoke.  The  surface  of  the 
sea  was  clear.  Everything  became  distinct  as  he 


4°  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

looked — the  color  of  the  sea,  the  density  of  the  wave. 
There  lay  the  oily  proof  of  the  herrings'  presence. 
Florimond  could  see  the  thick  scum  whose  brackish 
odor  he  had  smelled.  Had  he  not  been  right? 
The  school  of  black  noses  was  here,  and  this  was  the 
right  place  to  spread  the  nets. 

In  two  bounds  he  was  at  the  forecastle  hatch,  and 
\\ith  all  his  strength  he  made  it  resound  with  the 
joyful  shout : 

"All  on  deck — a  herring  scum  !  " 

Filled  with  delight,  and  drawn  by  this  cry  of  vic- 
tory, the  men  dropped  their  food,  rushing  and  over- 
turning one  another  at  the  ladder,  and  holding  fast 
with  feet,  with  knees,  with  hands.  All  nostrils  were 
distended,  all  eyes  turned  in  the  direction  the  skip- 
per pointed. 

"Was  I  not  right,  my  lads?  Here  they  are,  the 
black  noses,  always  faithful  to  their  rendezvous. 
But  they  are  swimming  low.  It  is  not  hard  to 
understand  why,  with  the  half  breeze  one  makes  out 
below  there  in  this  last  quarter  of  the  moon.  The 
nets  are  not  low  enough.  Let  out  three  fathoms." 

The  sloop's  boat  was  instantly  dropped  into  the 
sea.  Four  sailors  slipped  down  a  rope  into  her:  two 
big  fellows  to  row,  Chretien  to  steer,  an  old  hand  to 
let  out  the  ropes. 

"Get  on  board,  boy."  It  was  Firmin  they  called. 
He  was  wanted  to  aid  in  the  work,  and  disappeared 
over  the  side  in  his  turn. 

Elise  tried  to  follow  him.  She  slid  down  the  rope 
but  the  canoe  had  already  its  full  force.  One  more 
would  have  been  in  the  way. 


A    FISH  EX   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  41 

"Keep  back,  Lison,  you  can  go  next  time.  Have 
no  fear;  we  will  take  good  care  of  your  Firmin." 

Elise  was  not  at  all  satisfied.  The  little  fellow 
was  so  headstrong  that,  when  she  did  not  have  him 
at  her  side,  she  was  like  a  mother  in  distress.  Hang- 
ing on  the  rope,  she  called  out : 

"Chretien,  let  me  take  the  helm.  It  will  give  you 
time  to  finish  your  meal  and  to  sleep  an  hour." 

Too  late.  The  oars  cut  the  water,  and  they  were 
already  at  the  nearest  cask.  Firmin  quickly  let  out 
three  fathoms  of  rope  and  then  the  boat  went  on 
from  cask  to  cask  while  Elise  watched  it,  as  it  flew 
along  lifted  softly  by  the  swell. 

She  was  still  clinging  to  her  rope,  swinging  over 
the  water,  and  in  her  sadness  of  heart  had  hardly 
thought  of  herself. 

"Lise,  what  are  you  after?  Do  you  want  to  swim 
along  with  them?  Your  Firmin  is  lost  for  a  couple 
of  hours  only." 

Then  reaching  down  over  the  side,  hauling  at  the 
same  time  on  the  rope,  and  lifting  Elise,  Florimond 
raised  the  young  girl  to  the  deck.  Hardly  was  she 
on  her  feet  when  she  hurried  to  the  gunwale,  con- 
tinuing to  follow  the  boat  with  eyes  anxious  and 
tender. 

"Eh,  Lise,  it  is  not  healthy  in  our  trade  to  have  a 
heart  so  at  the  mercy  of  the  wave.  Why  do  you 
look  in  that  direction?  It  is  much  better  on  the 
other  side."  And  with  his  arm  stretched  toward 
the  North,  Florimond  showed  her  the  oily  scum 
which  lay  thick  on  the  surface  of  the  water  over  a 
space  of  many  miles. 


42  A   FISHER   GlKl.    Ol>    I-' K A  NCR. 

"What  a  puddle!  Have  you  ever  seen  it  promise 
as  well?" 

He  drew  Elise  forward  where  she  would  catch 
the  wind  from  the  scum,  and  wished  her  to  smell 
the  odor.  She  distended  her  nostrils  in  nervous 
efforts,  as  if  she  was  going  to  inhale  all  at  once 
these  riches  which  the  sea  offered. 

"There  is  more  than  one  mess  of  fish  there.  It  is 
a  shame  that  they  lie  so  low.  They  will  not  travel 
at  all  to-day,  at  least  unless  they  change  their  mind 
after  noon.  These  hunters  after  adventure  are 
governed  only  by  whims.  I  do  not  know  what  they 
have  seen  to  make  them  lie  at  the  bottom.  See 
how  the  birds  dive  after  them." 

A  flight  of  gray  birds  specked  the  sky  like  a  som- 
bre cloud,  but  to  learn  anything  from  their  behavior 
needed  the  eye  of  a  sailor,  an  eye  accustomed  to 
grasp,  in  all  the  completeness  of  detail,  things  most 
distant  and  most  fugitive. 

Florimond  had  seen  clearly  these  hungry  birds, 
and  it  was  from  them  that  he  knew  to  what  length 
to  drop  his  net.  Flying  to  a  great  height  and  then 
closing  their  wings,  they  let  themselves  drop  head- 
long with  all  their  weight,  so  as  to  dive  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea.  It  is  their  fashion  of  catching  the 
fish  when  he  swims  low. 

Elise  was  not  at  all  interested  in  their  doings. 
Fixed  in  one  spot  she  watched  the  changes  in  the 
horizon,  which  now  appeared  as  a  straight  line,  now 
disappeared  softly  behind  thin  and  formless  vapors. 
There  was  a  rapid  and  continuous  play  as  the  wind 
chased,  with  all  swiftness,  the  gray  and  transparent 


A    FISIJR&   GIRL    O/>'  FRANCE.  43 

mist.  Then  the  changing  fog  formed  cliffs,  and  all 
at  once,  breaking  out  from  the  circle  which  bound  it, 
spread  like  a  thick  white  cloud.  The  breath  of  the 
North  congealed  into  a  heavy  fog  as  it  left  his 
mighty  iungs. 

It  seemed  like  the  unfolding  of  a  mighty  winding- 
sheet,  ready  to  bury  under  its  thick  woof  the  infinite 
expanse  of  heaven  and  sea.  As  if  she  already  felt 
the  cold  enveloping  her,  Elise  shivered  : 

"Quick,  Cousin  Florimond,  quick,  quick;  see  the 
fog!  I  will  blow  the  horn  for  the  boat.  How  will 
they  be  able  to  find  their  way  back?" 

"They  will  grope  from  cask  to  cask.  There  are 
old  hands  on  board ;  I  have  no  fear  for  them." 

"All  the  same,  I  would  like  better  to  be  with 
Firmin.  I  will  blow  the  horn.  I  have  an  idea  that 
he  will  recognize  my  voice." 

While  the  young  girl  ran  to  the  forecastle  to  get 
the  horn  Florimond,  half  stupefied,  watched  the  ap- 
proach of  this  white  cloud,  which  immediately  envel- 
oped, in  a  mournful  silence,  the  school  of  herring, 
the  sea,  the  boats,  and  the  men. 

The  clamorous  birds  gave  hoarse  cries  as  they 
flew  to  and  fro,  but  already  the  fog  hid  them  from 
sight.  Florimond  threw  a  last  glance  at  the  scum, 
which  was  disappearing  like  a  fortune  snatched 
away  as  soon  as  seen.  He  saw  at  the  same  time 
the  neighboring  fishing-boats,  which  were  making 
haste  to  take  up  their  nets.  Then,  close  at  hand, 
tacking  about,  a  flambart,  which,  in  its  movements 
to  and  fro,  had  less  the  air  of  a  regular  fisherman 
than  of  a  coaster  pressed  into  the  service.  Decid- 


44  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

edly  this  flambart  acted  suspiciously.  During  the 
last  half  hour  it  had  sailed  from  one  boat  to  an- 
other, and  had  run  along  the  length  of  the  nets. 
Its  outlines  blended  into  an  uncertain  mass  through 
the  puffs  of  fog  which  commenced  to  surround  it. 
It  seemed  to  broaden,  to  rise  in  height,  to  enor- 
mously increase  in  size,  and  then  to  vanish  like  a 
phantom  of  darkness. 

Then  the  veil  of  fog  reached  the  Bon-Pcchcur,  and 
she  was  suddenly  enveloped  with  a  white  night 
damp,  cold  and  penetrating.  Florimond  stroked 
his  beard,  which  was  already  dripping  with  wet. 
He  breathed  into  the  dampness  to  judge  of  its 
thickness  and  resistance,  and  lowered  his  glance  in 
order  to  see  exactly  how  nearly  objects  close  at 
hand  were  obscured. 

"It  is  too  heavy  to  last,"  he  said.  "There  will  be 
no  risk  in  leaving  the  nets  in  the  water." 

At  this  moment,  from  the  bow  of  the  sloop  was 
heard  a  musical  note,  a  long  blast  followed  by  two 
slower  ones.  It  seemed  as  if  the  name  Bon-Pccheur 
had  been  called  out  in  two  plaintive  words  in  the 
midst  of  those  stifling  surroundings. 

Elise  was  blowing  the  trumpet  with  all  her  might 
in  the  direction  of  the  small  boat.  And  when  her 
breath  gave  out  and  she  stopped  to  rest,  she  raised 
her  black  eyes  and  tried  to  pierce  the  white  cloud, 
in  the  hope  of  being  able  to  discover  the  dear  form 
for  which  she  was  waiting.  Then  she  listened, 
motionless,  thinking  that  she  heard  the  noise  of  the 
oars. 

Could  they  not  hear  then,  the  men  in  the  small 


A   F1S11LK    G1KL    OF  l-'KAXCE,  45 

boat :  Firmin,  Chretien,  the  two  big  fellows,  and  the 
old  sailor?  Elise  blew  again.  She  put  all  her 
strength  into  a  far-reaching  blast.  A  heavy  sound 
came  back.  Could  it  be  an  echo  from  this  ocean  of 
fog?  It  came  from  another  fisherman  ;  their  signals 
crossed.  Could  they  have  out  a  boat  also? 

Then  a  figure  came  out  of  the  fog  beside  Elise, 
and  suddenly,  and  almost  with  rudeness,  said : 

"Elise,  give  me  the  trumpet.  It  is  not  a  tool  for 
weak  chests.  You  only  empty  your  lungs  without 
making  your  comrades  hear." 

And  with  a  blast  that  made  the  deck  tremble, 
Florimond  blew  into  it.  His  chest  was  hollowed  in 
by  the  effort.  One  would  have  said  the  winding- 
sheet  of  fog  was  torn  asunder.  Two  other,  three 
other,  horns  answered  by  blasts  nearly  as  sonorous. 

"You  can  hear  more  plainly.  It  is  the  end  of  the 
trouble.  Elise,  you  will  soon  see  your  Firmin 
again." 

But  the  lull  was  deceptive.  Hardly  had  the  fog 
lifted  when  it  settled  down  again,  more  thick  and 
more  damp  than  before. 

For  an  hour,  while  the  men  in  the  forecastle  took 
advantage  of  their  enforced  idleness  to  drink,  Flori- 
mond made  the  air  resound  with  his  long  blasts,  but 
he  only  exhausted  himself  uselessly  in  these  desper- 
ate appeals.  The  men  in  the  boat,  Firmin,  Chre- 
tien, the  two  big  fellows,  and  the  old  sailor  did  not 
return.  Silently,  leaning  over  the  gloomy  abyss, 
Elise  looked  and  listened,  listened  and  looked. 
Alas!  The  men  in  the  canoe  did  not  return. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  flambart  which  Florimond  had  seen  to  lee- 
ward of  the  Don-PccJieur  was  not  a  coaster.  It  was 
a  boat  from  some  port  of  Escaut  in  search  of  her- 
ring, but  it  was  manned  by  one  of  those  mongrel 
crews,  who  are  less  anxious  to  live  by  their  own 
work  than  by  stealing. 

The  skipper,  an  old  pirate  who  had  sailed  to  the 
four  quarters  of  the  world,  did  not  lack  boldness  nor 
skill.  He  had  a  quick  eye,  could  read  the  weather 
better  than  any  one,  and  managed  his  boat  with 
singular  dexterity.  No  one  knew  as  well  as  he  how 
to  take  up  his  neighbor's  nets  during  the  night, 
shake  out  the  sparkling  fish  into  his  bins,  and  return 
the  nets  empty  to  the  sea.  When  he  did  not  find 
the  fish  sufficient  booty,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  keep 
nets  also,  from  which  he  cut  off  enormous  pieces. 

Like  the  porpoise  he  was  most  active  in  bad 
weather,  and  to  assist  his  thieving,  profited  by  all  the 
treachery  of  the  sea.  As  soon  as  he  saw  the  fog 
coming,  he  tacked  about  in  such  a  fashion  that,  at 
the  moment  of  his  disappearance  in  the  mist,  he 
should  be  lying  to  at  the  further  end  of  the  Bon- 
Pecheurs  nets. 

At  this  very  moment  the  small  boat  came  along- 
side the  float  next  to  the  last.  The  four  sailors  and 
the  boy  had  finished  their  work  of  overhauling, 

46 


A    f-ISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  47 

without  any  suspicion  of  the  danger  •which  was  com- 
ing down  from  the  north  upon  them.  They  had 
seen  the  flambart  and  had  kept  an  eye  on  it,  with- 
out suspecting  it  of  evil  intentions.  But,  the  mo- 
ment they  were  imprisoned  in  the  fog,  all  five  of 
them  alike  had  an  intuition  of  the  truth,  and  laid 
their  heads  together. 

They  could  no  longer  make  out  the  smallest  ob- 
ject, for  everything  was  blotted  from  sight.  Their 
hollow  voices  took  on  a  strange  resonance  in  this 
thick  mist,  but  their  eyes  and  ears  became  quickly 
accustomed  to  its  unreality,  and  their  discussion  was 
as  much  to  the  point,  as  animated  and  as  terse,  as 
if  in  full  sunlight. 

Was  it  necessary  to  remain  there  on  guard  against 
the  thief?  They  would  risk  being  crushed  under 
the  bow  of  the  flambart.  Delay  itself  in  the  midst 
of  such  a  fog  would  be  dangerous.  The  two  big 
fellows  opposed  with  all  their  might  any  such  step. 
They  did  not  own  any  share  in  the  nets,  but  had 
leased  theirs  for  the  season.  Consequently,  they 
had  less  interest  in  defending  them. 

Chretien,  always  good-natured,  yielded  ;  but  Fir- 
min  would  not.  His  nets  and  those  of  his  sister 
were  there.  He  would  not  allow  a  single  mesh  to 
be  stolen,  if  he  had  to  mount  guard  all  alone  astride 
of  a  float. 

The  old  sailor  owned  nets,  and  he,  too,  held  that 
the  boat  should  remain  on  guard.  The  fog  would 
probably  lessen.  Fogs  like  this,  at  the  end  of  June, 
passed  in  whiffs,  like  a  puff  of  tobacco  smoke. 

All  five  of  them  heard  the  blasts  of  horns  blown 


4&  A    I-ISHEK   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

to  guide  them  back,  but  these  notes  of  alarm 
reached  them  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  horizon. 
In  which  direction  should  they  go?  By  listening 
intently  they  made  out  in  the  line  of  the  nets  a  note 
far  distant  and  rhythmic ;  one  would  have  said  that 
it  was  the  name  of  the  Bon-Pecheur  which  the  fog 
repeated. 

"Turn,  Chretien !"  rind  the  big  fellows  dug  their 
oars  into  the  water. 

"No!"  and  the  old  sailor  and  Firmin  clung  des- 
perately to  the  cask. 

Chretien  hesitated  between  the  two,  but  the  calls 
of  the  Bon-Pecheur  became  more  frequent,  more 
plaintive,  more  pressing. 

"Chretien,  bring  the  boat  around,  or  we  will 
strike";  and  standing  up  the  two  big  fellows  lifted 
their  oars  ready  for  a  blow.  Chretien,  easily  per- 
suaded, shifted  the  helm.  The  old  sailor  let  go  of 
the  cask,  but  Firmin  clung  tightly  and  the  boat, 
dragged  by  one  party,  held  back  by  another,  oscil- 
lated furiously. 

"Let  go,  boy,  do  you  want  to  upset  us?" 

But  the  angry  boy  clung- fast.  "Let  go!"  To 
drag  him  away  they  gave  a  long  pull  on  the  oars. 
But  they  were  twitched  back  so  vigorously  that  the 
rowers  tumbled  off  their  seats.  Then,  in  the  confu- 
sion, the  boat  floated  loose. 

"Stop!  Misery  and  bad  luck!  we  have  lost- the 
nets.  Steer  to  starboard !  No !  Listen !  The 
horn  of  the  Bon-Pcchcur  is  to  larboard.  It  has  a 
tender  sound;  one  would  believe  that  Lison  was 
blowing  it  for  her  boy.  What  do  you  say,  boy,  is  it 


A    fl*UEK   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  49 

your  sister  who  is  blowing?  What  has  become  of 
Firmin?  He  is  gone  overboard.  Par  bleu  !  It  was 
he  who  upset  us  just  now.  Poor  boy!  He  was  too 
obstinate.  He  is  drowned,  for  if  he  had  been  able 
to  cling  to  the  barrel  he  would  have  surely  heard 
us." 

He  heard  them  truly,  but  he  did  not  answer.  It 
was  the  caprice  of  a  child,  the  whim  of  an  obstinate 
little  mule. 

Let  them  go,  and  good  luck  to  them !  So  much 
the  better  if  they  are  lost.  It  will  punish  them  for 
having  been  cowards.  And  while  the  four  sailors 
lost  themselves  in  the  fog  he  floated  astride  of  his 
cask,  as  serious  as  a  gendarme  on  his  horse. 

They  were  well  advised,  those  fellows  who  de- 
cided to  run  away !  As  if  a  man  ought  to  abandon 
his  goods  to  thieves!  It  took  hard  enough  work  to 
earn  them  in  the  first  place.  Rlise  would  be  satis- 
fied with  him,  and  thinking  of  his  sister,  Firmin  was 
proud  of  himself. 

All  the  same,  it  was  hard  work  to  cling  astride  his 
barrel.  He  had  the  air  of  a  toad  who  slips  along  a 
stone  too  round  for  him.  But  when  one  makes  up 
one's  mind  to  do  a  thing,  one  can  do  it.  In  high 
spirits  he  set  himself  straight  in  his  saddle,  bending 
backward  and  forward  to  imitate  the  gallop  of  a 
horse.  The  barrel  dipped  and  rose  softly,  as  if  it 
were  swaying  beneath  him  as  it  ran. 

"Hoop-la,  hoop-la!  The  beast  has  blood,  he 
answers  to  the  spur!" 

Two  long  hours  passed,  and,  lost  in  this  annihi- 
lation of  everything,  Firmin  became  weary.  He 


5°  A   FISHER   GIRI.    OF  FRANCE. 

floated  dejectedly  now  with  the  "current,  and 
watched  the  sun  climb  the  heavens,  marking  its 
position  by  a  shaft  of  wan  light  through  the  mist. 
How  slowly  he  climbed,  this  pale,  sun !  He  was 
nearly  overhead,  but  his  rays  had  not  burned  off 
the  thick  vapor.  The  fog  would  go  only  with  the 
day. 

Nothing  could  be  so  gloomy  as  the  silence.  It 
was  broken  only  by  blasts  of  horns  at  longer  and 
longer  intervals,  farther  and  farther  away.  Once  in 
a  while  there  was  a  furtive  splashing,  a  rapid  swirl 
of  the  water;  it  was  a  passing  porpoise,  a  porpoise 
good-natured  and  full  of  play.  He  swam  at  the 
very  surface  of  the  sea,  letting  his  fin  show  above  it. 
He  stopped  long  enough  to  turn  his  foolish  somer- 
saults and  to  stare,  his  black  eyes  twinkling  with 
merriment  and  mischief.  But  he  could  not  wait  to 
laugh.  He  was  far  away  in  no  time.  Not  a  bird 
flew  near;  everything  was  in  mourning  under  this 
winding-sheet  of  fog. 

Distress  and  exhaustion  came  together.  In 
water  up  to  his  knees,  and  drenched  by  the  mist, 
Firmin  was  worn  out  both  in  spirit  and  body.  The 
white  night  seemed  to  penetrate  his  heart.  He 
looked,  he  listened :  but  there  was  nothing  except 
this  silent  whiteness  without  form  and  without  limit. 
His  startled  eyes  looked  for  dangers  which  he  could 
not  see.  He  was  frightened  at  noises  which  he  did 
not  hear.  Heedless  of  the  fish,  which  began  to 
move  as  if  to  announce  the  end  of  the  fog,  he  stared 
fixedly  before  him  into  the  silent  blank  which  had 
swallowed  all  the  energies  of  his  being. 


THE  WHITE  NIGHT  SEEMED  TO  PENETRATE  HIS  HEART. 


Chap.  6. 


A    I-ISIIEK    GIRL    OF  FK.lXCE.  51 

Utterly  worn  out,  his  teeth  chattering,  gasping, 
he  calls  Elise,  who,  alas,  cannot  hear  him.  His 
clenched  fingers  dig  themselves  into  the  staves 
of  the  barrel.  Elise !  Why  did  she  not  come  to 
the  rescue  of  her  fainting  brother?  In  a  convulsion 
of  terror  he  lost  his  balance  and  his  barrel  over- 
turned, throwing  him  into  the  sea.  Elise!  Elise! 
the  boy  you  love  so  much  is  drowning,  he  cannot 
hold  on  longer,  he  is  sinking! 

Where  was  he?  Roused  by  an  unlucky  blow  and 
the  noise  of  splintering  wood,  he  came  to  himself 
under  a  pile  of  nets,  half  suffocated  and  nearly 
drowned  beneath  the  dripping  mass.  Everything 
came  back  to  his  mind,  but  indistinctly.  -He  had 
fallen  from  his  cask,  his  strength  gone,  all  hope 
abandoned,  when  the  sound  of  the  nets  being  raised 
had  given  him  fresh  courage.  The  hawser  had  been 
drawn  tight,  bringing  the  nets  right  under  his  hands. 
He  clung  to  it  desperately,  he  kept  fast  hold  in  its 
rapid  rise,  and  when  he  saw  the  boat  at  hand, 
braced  himself  with  his  feet  so  as  not  to  be  crushed 
or  scraped  against  its  side.  With  the  nets  he  had 
fallen  on  the  deck,  but  then  all  his  strength  was 
gone,  and  he  did  not  know  even  how  he  had  got 
there. 

Then  his  brain  became  clearer.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  the  fog  was  less  dense.  Through  the  entan- 
gling net-work  which  surrounded  him  he  saw  figures, 
but  they  were  not  his  own  countrymen;  their  hair 
was  too  blond,  their  eyes  too  light.  Then  he  re- 
membered the  flatnbart  and  his  suspicion  of  her. 


52  A   1-lSUKR   GIRL   OF  1-RAXCE. 

Strange  figures  passed  him  with  savage  gestures, 
armed  with  gaffs,  with  capstan-bars,  with  oars, 
with  grapnels.  Where  were  they  hurrying,  and 
what  meant  their  strange  shouts  and  this  unaccount- 
able outcry? 

In  the  midst  of  this  uproar  in  a  strange  tongue, 
Firmin  heard  the  sound  of  voices  which  he  knew; 
the  sonorous  call  of  Florimond,  the  hoarse  shouts  of 
the  sailors.  Then  came  the  noise  of  grapnels 
clutching  the  bulwarks. 

Then  at  intervals  the  clear  voice  of  Elise: 

"This  way!  Alongside!  Cousin  Florimond, 
they  have  perhaps  stolen  our  men  with  our  nets." 

Then  a  tumult  of  blows.  Under  the  pile  of  nets 
Firmin  struggled  like  a  cat  who  tries  to  get  out  of  a 
snare.  He  was  wild  to  rejoin  Elise,  to  share  with 
her  the  risks  of  the  fight,  because  he  knew  that 
what  he  heard  was  a  fight  between  the  sloop  and 
the  flcunbart. 

Florimond  had  ended  by  being  afraid  of  this  fog 
which  did  not  disperse  at  noon.  He  knew  that 
sometimes  such  fogs  lasted  all  day,  and  that  they 
were  followed  by  wind.  Then,  bad  luck  to  nets  sur- 
prised by  heavy  weather  at  the  approach  of  night. 
His  anxiety  for  the  small  boat  had  increased  also. 
He  supposed  it  moored  to  some  float,  but  as  it  did 
not  come  back  he  planned  to  anticipate  its  return  by 
taking  up  the  nets.  And  on  the  Bon-Pcchtur  the 
capstan  smoked,  so  rapidly  did  it  work.  It  turned 
furiously.  The  men  untied  the  nets  in  feverish 
haste,  two  taking  the  place  everywhere  of  one  in  the 


A    FISHER    C.RI.    O/'    FRANCE.  S3 

impatience  which  each  felt  to  save  his  share  of  the 
nets  from  an  unknown  danger.  Suddenly  the  ma- 
chine gave  a  twitch  as  if  the  weights  which  it  was 
raising  had  doubled.  Florimond,  supposing  at  first 
that  he  must  be  lifting  the  boat  which  was  fast  to 
the  float,  rushed  to  the  bow  to  shout  an  alarm 
through  the  fog,  but  he  recoiled  in  the  face  of  an 
apparition. 

It  was  a  giant  craft  whose  masts,  seen  through  the 
mist,  appeared  to  touch  the  sky.  It  had  a  strange 
and  fantastic  appearance,  but  its  outline  soon  be- 
came clear  and  distinct  to  him.  The  noise  of  work 
was  heard,  the  whirling  of  another  machine,  the 
groaning  of  another  capstan,  the  cries  of  men  in 
Flemish  patois.  It  was  the  flambart  which  from 
the  other  end  was  taking  up  his  nets.  Pack  of 
pirates !  ...  Tonncrre  ! 

They  were  going  to  strike  bow  to  bow.  With  a 
grinding  that  made  the  boat  shiver  the  hawser 
parted,  lashing  the  water  furiously  like  the  blow  of 
a  whip.  The  next  instant  there  was  a  crash  as  the 
boats  met.  Both  bowsprits  snapped  short  off,  the 
bows  were  staved  in,  timbers  cracked,  every  joint 
creaked.  Sloop  and  flambart  cried  aloud  together 
under  the  violence  of  the  collision.  Then  locked 
together,  foot  to  foot,  axe  to  axe,  they  fought  for 
the  nets. 

Firmin  worked  without  stopping  to  get  free  from 
his  meshy  prison.  His  fingers  were  entangled,  his 
legs  and  arms  held  fast.  The  -more  he  struggled 
the  more  firmly  he  was  held  in  this  intricate  mass. 


54  A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

He  heard  the  fight  grow  more  noisy  and  more 
bitter,  taunts  were  hurled  back  and  forth,  there  was 
the  sounds  of  blows,  the  cries  of  the  wounded. 

Death  and  ill-fortune!  Why  had  he  not  thought 
of  his  knife  while  he  was  working  there  vainly  like  a 
fly  in  a  spider's  net.  He  was  not  long  in  opening  a 
way,  in  cutting  for  himself  a  door  in  the  thick  mass 
of  cordage.  He  was  on  his  feet.  What  light  was 
this?  The  fog  had  gone  of  a  sudden.  He  saw  the 
Bon-Pecheur.  He  darted  forward.  "Elise!  Elise!" 

Too  late !  The  two  boats  had  separated.  From 
the  bulwarks  of  the  flambart  the  grapnels,  cut  off  by 
hatchets,  hung  like  dead  claws,  and  the  sailors  with 
the  blond  faces  shoved  away  with  oars  and  gaffs 
the  sloop  which  fell  off  wounded  and  gasping. 

"Elise!  Elise!"  Firmin  had  seen  his  sister,  who 
stretched  out  her  arms  to  him. 

"Jump  overboard,  child!     I  will  throw  a  buoy." 

Without  hesitation  he  sprang  on  the  bulwarks, 
but  rough  hands  struck  him  back  harshly  to  the 
deck. 

"Elise!  Elise!''  Too  late !  The  two  boats  had 
hoiste'd  their  sails  and  in  the  now  clear  air  were 
under  way,  without  pity  for  the  two  beings  that 
they  were  tearing  asunder. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SLOOP  and  flambart  set  out  each  for  its  own  port 
to  repair  damages. 

After  the  collision  Florimond  had  examined  into 
the  state  of  his  boat,  and  had  judged  it  such  as  to 
make  speedy  repairs  a  necessity.  The  Bon-Peclieur 
was  injured  in  her  dead  works  only,  but  she  had  lost 
her  figure  head,  carried  away  by  the  same  blow  as 
the  bowsprit,  and  her  cut-water  was  stove.  More- 
over the  tearing  of  her  planking  to  starboard  threat- 
ened to  let  in  the  water,  and  with  her  timbers 
started  in  the  bow  she  could  not  have  borne  a  heavy 
head  sea. 

Temporary  repairs  were  promptly  made.  The 
wound  in  the  planking  was  dressed  within  by  a 
solid  facing  of  board  and  without  was  staunched 
with  a  compress.  A  great  piece  of  sail  was  smeared 
with  a  thick  coating  of  a  waterproof  dressing  made 
of  tow,  tar,  and  tallow,  and  this  was  then  spread  like 
a  great  plaster  over  the  injured  place. 

The  cracks  in  the  cut-water  disappeared  under  a 
sheathing  tightly  nailed,  and  finally  the  only  extra 
mast  which  the  boat  owned,  a  mizzen  mast,  was 
made  to  do  duty  as  a  bowsprit.  It  weighed  a  little 
heavily  on  the  bow,  already  too  weak,  and  made  the 
boat  pitch  violently,  straining  her  in  her  seams. 

There  was  no  doubt  that  it  would  have  been  wise 

55 


$6  A    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

to  put  into  some  Scotch  roadstead,  but  Florimond 
preferred  to  run  all  risks  and  try  to  make  his  own 
port.  Nothing  is  more  hateful  to  a  sailor  than  an 
enforced  stay  on  land,  and  a  detention  of  this  kind 
appears  to  him  more  annoying  and  more  irksome 
than  ever  in  a  strange  country. 

Florimond,  besides,  was  impatient  to  begin  legal 
proceedings  before  the  maritime  authorities.  He 
had  seen  enough  of  the  flambart  to  enable  him  to 
identify  her,  and  had  no  need  of  further  evidence  to 
prove  his  charges  and  obtain  speedy  damages  for 
his  injuries. 

He  was  not  troubled  at  all  as  to  Firmin.  Pirates 
of  the  North  Sea  are  pillagers  and  stealers  of  nets, 
but  they  do  not  eat  men,  and  if  they  kept  the  boy 
it  was  more  from  a  fear  of  seeing  him  drown  than 
from  a  desire  to  hurt  him.  Surprised  at  being  iden- 
tified in  .the  sudden  lifting  of  the  fog,  they  would 
not  have  wished  to  add  to  their  misdeeds  the 
chances  of  a  death  which  would  weigh  heavily  in 
the  balance  with  their  judges. 

There  remained  the  canoe.  As  to  this  Florimond 
was  more  troubled.  He  tried  in  vain  to  imagine 
how  the  four  men  had  become  separated  from  Fir- 
min, and  what  direction  they  had  taken.  If  his 
sloop  had  not  been  damaged  he  would  have  recov- 
ered the  boy  in  order  to  find  out;  but  he  had  been 
too  much  troubled  in  the  confusion  of  the  unex- 
pected collision  to  think  of  saving  anything  beyond 
his  crew  and  his  boat. 

The  Bon-P2cheur  sailed  south,  while  the  flambart 
fled  eastward.  Elise  followed  with  an  inert  glance 


A    FISHER   GIRL    O/-    FRANCE.  57 

the  strange  craft  which  was  carrying  away  the  only 
being  for  whom  she  cared  to  live.  Then  her  first 
feeling  of  stupor  gave  way,  and  she  regained  her 
self-control. 

The  flambart  was  not  yet  more  than  two  cable 
lengths  distant. 

It  had  not  taken  the  wind,  and  it  would  be  child's 
play  to  overtake  her.  As  she  watched  her,  still  so 
close  at  hand,  a  distant  cry  made  her  start.  Her 
child,  the  boy  whom  she  loved,  whom  she  had 
always  loved,  was  struggling  not  to  be  carried  away. 

Stirred  in  every  fibre  of  her  being  she  drew  her- 
self up,  resolute  and  strong  to  defend  the  rights  of 
outraged  affection.  Running  to  the  helm  where 
Florimond  was,  she  seized  it  with  her  two  hands  as 
if  to  bring  the  boat  about. 

"Tack,  cousin,  I  must  get  my  boy." 

"You  are  a  fool,  Elise.  We  shall  have  heavy 
enough  work  as  it  is,  if  the  \\feather  does  not  favor 
us." 

"I  do  not  care,  I  wish  my  boy." 

"Then  go  and  get  him  alone,  the  boat  shall  not 
carry  you." 

"Oh,  cousin!  I  beseech  you.  It  will  take  less 
than  half  an  hour." 

"The  wind  would  not  take  as  much  time  as  that 
to  throw  us  on  our  beam-ends." 

"Cousin,  I  promise  you  to  be  quick.  We  need 
not  come  alongside,  the  boy  shall  jump  overboard. 
I  will  make  myself  fast  to  a  rope  and  pick  him  up." 

"Elise,  be  quiet.  I  have  not  even  five  minutes  to 
lose.  The  slightest  squall  would  stave  in  our  sides. 


58  A   FISHER    GIRL    OF  I' 

I  shall   not  have  a  moment's  peace   until  we    have 
reached  port." 

"Cousin  Florimond,  it  is  killing  me  to  know  that 
my  Firmin  is  among  those  pirates." 

"Why  do  you  let  your  imagination  run  away  with 
you?  Do  you  not  know  that  they  will  send  him 
back  by  the  first  boat?  Is  it  not  the  custom?" 

"Cousin,  cousin,  hurry !     The  flambart  is  off." 

"Elise,  let  go!  I  will  not  risk  everything  for  your 
wretched  brother.  Let  go !" 

Elise  did  not  let  go  of  the  helm.  One  would 
have  said  that,  holding  herself  thus  fast  to  the  soul 
of  the  boat,  she  imagined  that  she  could  persuade  it 
to  stop  and  act  as  she  wished. 

But  Florimond's  patience  was  exhausted  at  her 
persistence.  She  raised  to  him  her  great  black  eyes, 
firm  and  beseeching,  and  he  was  not  able  to  bear 
the  trouble  which  he  saw  in  them. 

"Away  there !  Tdtmerre  /  Away  there,  Elise ! 
Do  you  think  you  are  captain  now  because  the  sail- 
ors have  flattered  you  in  order  to  annoy  me?  Have 
you  ever  known  me  suffer  another  master  than  my- 
self on  my  boat?  Away,  there!" 

He  raised  his  voice,  that  the  men  of  the  crew,  who 
pressed  around  them,  interested  in  the  dispute, 
could  hear  clearly. 

There  was  not  one  who  did  not  approve  the  skip- 
per's prudence.  At  the  first  seam  which  shows 
itself  in  the  side  of  his  floating  house  the  sailor 
loses  confidence,  and  with  that  his  resolution. 
When  one  has  nothing  between  one's  self  and  death 
but  a  wooden  box,  it  is  especially  necessary  that 


A   FISHER   GIR1.   OF  FRANCE.  59 

there  should  be  no  cracks  in  the  planking.  The 
men  remained  silent,  not  able  to  forget  the  state  of 
affairs  and  to  take  sides.  Nevertheless  there  was  an 
evident  sympathy  for  Elise,  a  frank  admiration  for 
her  feeling  and  her  bravery.  They  experienced  a 
mysterious  respect  for  this  creature,  so  strong  in 
the  weakness  of  her  sex ;  for  this  young  girl, 
vigorous  and  gentle,  whose  courage  was  sure 
and  whose  heart  was  kind.  She  had  shown  against 
danger  a  resolution  which  never  failed,  against 
injury  a  pity  which  nothing  discouraged.  She  had 
won  them  over  by  the  strength  of  her  heroic 
youth,  and  they  gave  her  their  full  support  and 
confidence. 

Before  her  they  did  not  dare  to  be  ill-natured,  or 
to  let  her  see  their  rough  ways.  They  were  eager 
to  show  their  skill  and  courage,  to  run  without  hesi- 
tation in  heavy  weather  along  the  gunwale,  to  walk 
erect  on  the  bowsprit,  and  to  play  like  monkeys  in 
the  rigging.  Each  showed  his  best  side  and, 
through  the  force  of  example,  Elise  was  the  cause 
of  an  increased  discipline. 

All  this  was  to  Florimond  a  cause  of  jealousy  and 
continual  ill-feeling.  The  more  this  strange  influ- 
ence on  his  boat  increased,  the  less  was  he  able  to 
stand  it.  He  suffered  from  envy  and  mortification, 
and  these  make  even  kind  hearts  unjust. 

In  fact  he  regretted  already  that  he  had  not  man- 
aged by  prompt  action  to  rescue  Firmin.  In  his 
inmost  conscience  he  reproached  himself  for  his 
hardness;  but,  wounded  in  his  vanity,  he  would 
rather  have  died  at  the  helm  than  have  changed  his 


60  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

first  refusal,  and   so  have  seemed   to  yield   to  the 
ascendancy  of  Elise. 

At  this  moment  Barnabe  came  on  deck,  hardly  yet 
well,  but  drawn  thither  by  the  excitement  of  recent 
events.  He  waddled  pompously  forward.  Under 
the  bandages  and  rags  in  which  ha'f  his  head  was 
tied  up,  his  round  nose,  his  little  alert  eye,  and  his 
black  moustache  gave  him  quite  a  military  swagger. 
He  immediately  took  a  hand  in  the  discussion,  with 
his  customary  arrogant  tone.  He  did  not  know  the 
cause  of  the  dispute,  but  he  was  not  accustomed  to 
being  embarrassed  by  any  such  trifle  as  that,  and  his 
only  thought  was  to  be  revenged  on  Florimond. 

Being  the  last  to  arrive  he  found  himself,  as  he 
was  a  short  man,  out  of  sight  behind  the  tall  figures 
of  his  comrades.  He  saw  that  his  voice  could  not 
be  heard.  Jumping  upward  he  caught  a  rope, 
climbed  it,  and  hung  fast  to  it  like  a  cat,  and  then, 
as  much  at  his  ease  as  an  orator  in  his  pulpit,  deliv- 
ered his  harangue.  He  spoke  as  brawlers  every- 
where do,  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  his  own  voice, 
and  without  realizing  that,  in  these  first  moments  of 
uneasiness,  his  audience  did  not  care  in  the  least  for 
his  twaddle. 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Barnabe,"  cried  the  skipper. 
"We  don't  want  to  hear  you ;  one  has  better  things 
to  do  than  to  listen  to  the  squalling  of  a  fool,  when 
one  fears  a  storm." 

"Does  the  truth  then  trouble  you?  If  you  wish 
to  injure  Lison,  it  is  because  you  are  jealous.  She 
is  worth  more  than  you." 

This  apostrophe  had  no  connection  with  the  sub- 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  61 

/ 

ject  of  debate,  but  it  agreed  very  well  with  the  real 
feeling  of  the  sailors.  They  all  smiled  grimly  as 
they  looked  at  Florimond,  who  turned  the  tables 
by  saying : 

"There  is  no  time  for  laughing,  pack  of  simple- 
tons. Do  you  remember  that  our  bow  is  as  cracked 
as  Barnabe's  head?" 

With  the  weak  vacillation  of  the  ignorant  they 
lost  their  smiles  instantly,  but  the  landsman  was  not 
vanquished : 

"If  Lison  had  had  charge  of  the  boat,  it  would  not 
have  been  injured." 

"Be  quiet,  Barnabe,"  cried  Elise,  "we  are  wasting 
valuable  time  in  foolish  talk.  My  brother  Firmin  is 
carried  off  on  the  flambart.  I  want  to  go  after 
him." 

"Of  course!     We  must  tack,"  shouted  Barnabe. 

He  waited  for  the  effect  of  this  demand.  But  the 
sailors  did  not  move,  held  back  this  time  by  the 
fury  of  the  skipper,  who  cried  in  a  rage: 

"Hold  your  tongue!  Do  you  wish  the  boat  to  be 
lost  on  account  of  this  wretched  girl?  Is  it  not 
enough  that  we  have  lost  our  season  through  her? 
Since  she  has  been  on  board  we  have  had  nothing 
but  bad  luck." 

He  pushed  Elise  roughly  from  the  helm.  Over- 
come by  the  cruelty  of  fate  she  burst  into  a  torrent 
of  tears.  From  her  black  eyes,  swimming  in  sad- 
ness, the  bitter  drops  gushed  hot  and  tumultuous, 
as  though  the  source  of  bitterness  and  woe  was 
inexhaustible.  Her  chest  heaved  under  her  dis- 
tressing sobs,  and  a  feeling  of  rude  sadness,  of 


62  A    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

instinctive  pity   seized  all  the  men  at  the  sight  of 
her  grief  and  misery. 

"Shall  we  abandon  her  in  her  trouble?"  shouted 
Barnabe.  "We  must  tack!  It  is  only  cowards  who 
make  women  weep.  Come  on!  Seize  the  tiller!" 

The  group  of  sailors  was  stirred  by  an  involun- 
tary thrill.  Florimond  feared  the  unchaining  of  the 
tempest,  if  he  were  not  firm.  With  his  strong  hand 
he  snatched  the  tiller  from  its  socket,  and  raised  it 
with  all  the  strength  of  his  mighty  arm. 

"Tonnerre!  Here  it  is!  Who  wants  the  tiller? 
who  wants  it?" 

He  made  it  whirl  about  him  threateningly.  All 
the  men  recoiled  instinctively,  and  slipping  down 
his  rope  Barnabe  cunningly  took  shelter  behind  his 
companions. 

"Who  wants  it?     Tonnerre !  " 

No  one,  evidently,  was  anxious  for  it,  for  no  man 
moved. 

At  this  moment  the  sloop  gave  a  plaintive  groan, 
a  yawning  of  her  plastered  seams. 

"Do  you  hear  how  she  wheezes  in  the  chest?  She 
breathes  hard.  Hoist  the  top-sail !  " 

It  was  done.  When  she  saw  the  sloop  with  alP 
sails  spread,  Elise  felt  that  her  last  hope  was  gone. 
Quickly,  through  the  veil  of  her  tears,  she  turned  her 
eyes  toward  the  flambart,  which  was  disappearing 
on  the  eastern  horizon,  and,  with  lacerated  feelings 
and  bleeding  heart,  abandoned  herself  to  the  depths 
of  her  sorrow. 

For  four  days  and  four  nights  the  Bon-P^cheur  ran 


A   FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  63 

at  the  same  speed  without  shifting  a  sail.  In  one 
straight  flight  she  passed  through  the  North  Sea, 
entered  the  straits  of  Calais,  and  found  herself  again 
in  the  familiar  waters  of  the  English  Channel. 

But  with  her  change  of  sea,  she  had  a  change  of 
wind.  These  sudden  changes  are  very  common  in 
these  waters.  One  would  have  said  that  the  breeze 
was  angry  at  the  impatience  of  the  Bon-PecJieur,  and 
that  it  changed  in  order  to  hinder  her  presumptuous 
flight. 

If  she  could  only  get  underway!  For  an  hour 
her  large  hull  had  ceased  to  slip  proudly  through 
the  waves,  and  was  tossing  a  little  heavily.  There 
was  a  risk  of  opening  her  wound.  If  she  could  only 
get  under  way !  Yonder  in  the  wind's  eye,  a  squall 
was  brewing.  In  advance  of  the  great  clouds, 
which  rolled  in  gray  whirls,  rose  a  broad  band  of 
sombre  yellow,  like  a  cliff  of  wind  and  rain.  They 
are  not  at  all  pleasant  to  meet,  these  briny  coast 
squalls,  behind  each  one  of  which  hide  twenty  others, 
ready  to  follow  in  wild,  endless  uproar. 

The  band  of  yellow  spread.  It  covered  half  the 
sky,  and  its  outlines  reached  the  zenith.  It  drew 
near,  driven  by  a  furious  wind,  and  borne  on  a 
rushing  wave,  like  a  moving  wall  of  water,  ready  to 
crash  down.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  it  covered  the 
whole  heavens,  while  before  it  ran  three  waves, 
avant-couriers,  who  preceded  it  for  some  minutes,  as 
if  to  announce  the  tempest. 

If  the  Bon-Peclicnr  had  only  not  lost  so  much  time. 
It  had  hardly  taken  in  any  sail,  it  was  as  full  of  bra- 
vado as  if  it  wished  to  meet  the  squall,  and  be 


64  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

* 

driven  along  by  it.  It  was  approaching  its  port. 
Already  had  it  passed  the  sands  of  Gris-Nez  and 
the  chalky  rocks  of  Boulogne,  it  had  seen  again  the 
light-house  of  Etaples,  it  had  heard  the  buoy  which 
whistles  on  the  shoals  of  Berck,  and  the  buoy  of  ihe 
Vergoyer.  There  the  sea  is  the  shallowest  in  those 
waters.  The  bottom  lies  little  over  twenty  feet  be- 
low the  surface.  The  surf  foams  and  breaks  as 
strongly  as  on  the  coast.  It  is  heavy  enough  to 
capsize  any  boat. 

It  was  toward  this  spot  that  the  north-east  wind, 
which  had  held  for  the  last  hour,  was  blowing.  If 
it  should  suddenly  get  the  Bon-Pechenr  in  its  clutch, 
it  would  drive  her  to  this  Vergoyer,  whence  escape 
was  impossible.  Never  can  it  be  known  how  many 
men  and  boats  have  been  engulfed  by  these  eddies, 
hardly  three  thousand  feet  wide.  At  its  very  name 
Elise  had  a  shiver  of  fright.  For  it  was  this  ac- 
cursed Vergoyer  which  had  made  her  an  orphan,  and 
which  still  kept  jealously  the  bodies  of  her  father 
and  his  six  companions,  refusing  to  deliver  them  up 
to  the  land  they  loved  so  well. 

Florimond  was  at  the  helm.  For  four  days  he  had 
hardly  left  it.  Less  than  ever  in  the  hour  of  peril 
would  he  entrust  to  other  hands  the  fortunes  of  his 
boat.  With  his  steady  eye,  and  that  skill  in  han- 
dling her  which  never  forsook  him,  he  had  fought  the 
Bon-P$clieur  against  the  treacherous  sea  ;  refusing  all 
rest,  having  his  meals  brought  to  him,  and  eating 
with  one  hand  while  he  steered  with  the  other.  In 
this  half  week  he  had  not  slept  five  hours.  His 
cheeks  were  burning  with  fever,  and  his  clear  eyes 


A    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  6$ 

were    dimmed    and    seemed    sunk    deep   into   his 
head. 

It  was  because  he  knew  and  feared  this  sea,  which 
was  so  quickly  angry ;  this  sea  which  supports  life, 
but  which  also  destroys  it. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FLORIMOND's  only  hope  was  that  the  storm 
would  be  slight,  for  sometimes,  threatening  as  they 
seem,  these  squalls  have  little  force,  and  are  soon 
over.  He  awaited  impatiently  the  three  waves 
which  preceded  it,  in  order  to  judge  of  the  strength 
of  those  in  their  wake. 

These  three  waves  are  often  followed  by  a  lull. 
There  is  generally  a  space  of  five  minutes  between 
the  first  alarm  and  the  arrival  of  the  wind ;  five 
minutes,  which  a  good  sailor  utilizes  in  getting  his 
ship  ready  to  meet  it. 

What  should  he  do?  Should  he  keep  the  wind 
astern  and  run  before  it  with  all  speed  in  the  direc- 
tion of  his  harbor?  It  was  a  hundred  chances  to 
one  that  he  would  strike  on  the  Vergoyer. 

Was  there  any  other  means  of  safety  that  he 
could  try?  Should  he  close  reef  her?  Was  not 
that  still  more  risky? 

When  a  boat  is  close  reefed,  she  renders  the  tem- 
pest harmless  by  offering  it  no  resistance.  The  sea 
has  a  malicious  pleasure  in  hurling  masses  of  water 
against  an  object  which  opposes  it.  So  the  boat 
uses  a  kind  of  strategy.  She  appears  to  be  at  the 
mercy  of  the  waves,  but  all  the  while  keeps  a  sharp 
watch  against  the  rude  play  of  her  adversary.  All 
sail  is  struck,  so  as  to  give  the  wind  no  hold  except 

66 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  67 

on  the  hull,  and  as  the  boat  drifts,  she  forms  with 
her  hull  a  large  wake,  flat  and  solid,  which  resists 
the  violence  of  the  waves,  stops  them,  and  knocks 
them  down,  so  that  they  die  out  on  it. 

The  Bon-Pecheur  was  an  old  hand  at  this  kind  of 
work,  and  expert  at  it.  It  is  usually  so  with  good 
sailors  ;  so  that  had  she  not  been  injured,  Florimond 
would  not  have  dreaded  the  squall  in  the  least.  He 
would  have  let  his  boat  drift,  and  would  have 
brought  up  at  Treport  or  perhaps  at  Dieppe;  but 
she  was  injured  in  precisely  the  parts  which  would 
be  most  under  strain. 

Only  two  sails  are  used ;  in  the  bow  the  stay-sail, 
and  in  the  stern  a  little  leg-of-mutton,  which  takes 
the  place  of  the  jigger-sail.  In  this  way  the  two 
ends  of  the  boat,  which  alone  carry  sail,  feel  the 
force  of  the  wind.  Consequently  they  must  be  very 
strong.  Would  the  Bon-Pecheur,  wounded  as  she 
was,  have  strength  to  resist  such  a  strain? 

It  seemed  then  to  Florimond  that  to  drift  would 
end  almost  certainly  in  the  boat's  breaking  up.  He 
was  still  hesitating  when  the  three  waves  arrived, 
foaming  and  roaring,  and  swept  the  deck  from  end 
to  end. 

In  order  to  withstand  the  shock,  which  he  fore- 
saw was  to  be  tremendous,  he  had  braced  himself, 
with  legs  far  apart ;  but  the  first  sea  lifted  him  off  his 
feet,  picked  him  up,  shook  him,  knocked  him  sense- 
less, and  rolled  him  over  and  over,  leaving  him 
unconscious  on  the  deck.  The  second  wave  would 
have  carried  him  overboard,  had  not  two  sailors 
seized  him  just  in  time,  and  dropped  him  into  a 


68  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

place   of   safety,   through  the   open  hatch   by   the 
capstan. 

The  three  waves  swept  by  in  a  fury  of  foam, 
showing  that  the  wind  was  to  be  tremendous.  They 
must  act  or  die. 

Who  should  take  the  helm? 

"Lison — Lison!" 

As  with  one  voice  the  sailors  called  for  the  girl, 
showing  involuntarily  how  they  depended  on  her  for 
their  lives.  It  was  a  perilous  honor  which  they 
forced  upon  her. 

Injured  in  her  dead  works  already,  and  full  of 
water,  the  sloop  quivered  under  the  blows  of  the 
waves,  while  at  this  very  moment  she  was  close  to 
the  dangers  of  the  shoals,  with  their  shifting  cur- 
rents of  eddying  sand. 

Elise  did  not  hesitate.  In  her  instinctive  terror 
of  the  Vergoyer,  she  had  but  one  thought — that  was 
to  fly  from  it,  to  shun,  cost  what  it  might,  the  place 
to  which  the  wind  was  furiously  hurrying  them. 
Had  it  not  already  had  enough  victims,  this  gulf  of 
the  dead,  that  one  should  offer  one's  self  as  a  fresh 
sacrifice,  with  the  certainty  of  not  escaping? 

Elise,  by  close  reefing  the  boat,  hoped  to  reach 
the  pier  at  Treport.  There  was  on  the  coast  to  the 
south-west  a  bad  channel  to  pass  through,  down 
toward  the  black  buoy,  but  they  would  do  their  best 
when  they  came  to  it.  Between  two  dangerous 
courses  ought  not  one  to  choose  the  less? 

Without  hesitation,  without  even  surprise  at  their 
choosing  her,  she  ran  to  the  helm  and  quickly  made 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  69 

herself  fast  to  the  end  of  a  rope,  so  as  not  to  be 
swept  over  by  the  enormous  seas  that  were  to  come. 
She  gave  out  her  orders: 

"Furl  the  jib  and  the  main-sail!  Rig  the  leg-of- 
mutton  !" 

She  ordered  ropes  stretched  at  once  from  the 
mast  to  the  gunwale,  for  the  men  to  hold  to.  She 
assigned  them  their  posts.  Four  sailors  to  the 
pumps,  two  to  the  lookout  on  the  bow.  Every- 
thing was  ready  when  the  first  blast  came,  with  furi- 
ous waves  heaped  up  on  one  another,  as  if  to  drown 
them  under  the  deluge  of  foam  and  spray.  The 
deck  was  under  water  from  one  end  to  the  other. 
Quantities  of  it  ran  into  the  open  hatchways.  How 
had  it  happened  that  they  could  have  forgotten  to 
shut  these  mouths  of  the  ship?  Through  them  she 
was  drinking  enough  water  to  sink  her. 

"Close  the  hatches!  Nail  them  fast!"  The  cov- 
ers were  clapped  on,  and,  in  order  that  they  should 
not  yield  to  a  sudden  strain  and  open  of  themselves, 
were  made  secure  by  heavy  blows  of  hammer  and  nails. 

It  was  time.  Great  sweeping  seas  came  aboard. 
Furious  at  finding  the  hatches  closed,  they  crashed 
against  the  bulwarks,  and  ran  off  slowly  through  the 
scuppers. 

All  was  ready.  Heaven  help  them  !  Elise  stood 
erect,  conscious  of  her  responsibility.  Near  her  a 
sailor  called  out  when  the  heaviest  seas  were  going 
to  break.  She  turned  her  back  to  them,  bracing 
herself  firmly,  disappearing  in  the  whirls  of  foam, 
but  always  reappearing  on  her  feet,  energetic  and 
unconquerable. 


70  A    I'ISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

Soon  the  blasts  of  the  tempest  were  in  mad  chase, 
as  if  striving  to  see  which  could  lash  the  hardest  and 
most  furiously. 

With  quivering  plunges,  with  creakings  and 
strainings,  the  Bon-PecJieur  fell  away  across  the 
shoals.  Sometimes  the  waves  were  swifter  than 
she,  and  swept  by  her;  then,  striking  her  on  the 
stern,  they  drove  her  violently  forward.  Her  bow 
groaned  dolorously,  the  pumps  clanked  unceasingly, 
while  the  lookout  shouted  : 

"To  larboard  a  bell  buoy!" 

It  was  the  buoy  anchored  on  the  shoals  of 
Somme. 

"To  starboard  a  black  buoy!" 

The  Bon-PccJieur  entered  the  channel.  This  was 
a  perilous  spot,  but  Elise  did  not  fear  it  any  more 
than  the  shoal  the  bell  buoy  marked.  Through 
these  waters,  so  treacherous  on  account  of  their 
shifting  sands,  she  had  sailed  with  her  father  often 
enough  to  know  all  the  dangers,  and  to  shun  them 
with  the  confidence  of  an  old  pilot. 

Immovable  and  firm,  she  managed  the  helm 
rather  with  her  nerves  than  with  her  muscles. 
Heavy  as  it  seemed  for  her,  she  held  it  against  the 
seas,  and  by  a  continual  go  and  come  of  the  tiller 
forced  the  boat's  head  in  such  a  way  as  to  spare  the 
bow,  making  the  stern  bear  the  brunt  of  the  shocks. 
Now  stumblingly,  now  with  a  rush  forward,  the 
Bon-Pcchcur  went  on  her  crooked  course,  and  buoys 
and  beacons  went  by  her  as  fast  as  if  they  were 
themselves  running  in  an  opposite  direction. 

Hurrah !     They  see  at  last  the  light-house  of  Tre- 


.NEAR  HER,    A   SAILOR   CALLED   OUT  WHEN   THE   HEAVIEST   SEAS 
WERE   GOING   TO   BREAK. 


Chap.   8. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  7 1 

port,  which  yonder  to  leeward  stands  out  cl^ar 
above  the  sombre  cliffs,  white  as  the  emblem  of 
hope.  Courage !  the  wave  is  heavy,  but  the  danger 
of  the  shoals  is  over.  Before  a  half  hour  the  Bon- 
PccJieur  will  be  at  the  pier. 

Alas,  the  wind  stiffens!  The  heavens  are  black, 
the  sea  is  black,  the  foam  alone  is  white.  The 
waves  strike  her  more  furiously.  One  of  them, 
angry  and  irresistible,  has  nearly  engulfed  her  in  its 
whirling  mass.  She  is  entirely  lost  to  sight.  For 
twenty  seconds  there  is  no  sign  of  her.  Then  she 
shakes  herself  free,  but  with  a  fresh  rent  in  her  bow. 
A  little  more,  and  she  would  have  gone  down  for- 
ever. Heaven  help  them ! 

"Turn  out  a  reef  of  the  main-sail,  two  reefs  of  the 
jib !" 

What  are  you  thinking  of,  Elise !  more  sail  to  a 
wind  so  furious  that  it  already  nearly  tears  away 
the  little  that  the  boat  is  carrying.  The  Bon- 
Peclicur  flies  like  a  bird  of  the  tempest.  In  less 
than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  she  is  just  under  the  light- 
house. Courage!  Alas!  The  cut-water  opens,  and 
the  bow  settles,  until  the  deck  is  on  a  level  with  the 
sea.  Are  they  to  go  down  so  near  port?  Heaven 
help  them ! 

"Hoist  the  jib  and  the  stay-sail!" 

More  sail  still?  It  seems  madness.  The  jib  is 
hardly  hoisted  before  it  is  torn  away,  dragging  with 
it  the  makeshift  bowsprit. 

Its  rags  and  the  timber  thrash  about,  threatening 
to  destroy  everything.  Death  and  misery!  The 
Bon-Pecheur  digs  her  nose  under  water. 


7 2  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

"Hoist  the  main-sail!" 

It  is  a  fearful  task.  Heaven  help  them !  But 
while  the  boat  floats  there  is  hope.  The  sailors 
watch  for  a  lull  in  the  wind,  and  suddenly  the  sail 
hangs  out  in  the  teeth  of  the  gale.  The  bow  is  full 
of  water,  but  lifted  by  the  pressure  of  the  wind 
against  the  sail  it  rises  again. 

Courage!  The  light-house  is  close  at  hand.  How 
the  boat  rolls  and  pitches!  But  now  the  Bon- 
Pet/ieur  is  not  making  headway.  She  lies  low  in 
the  water,  plunging  heavily.  She  is  like  a  wounded 
sea-gull  beating  with  its  wings  in  its  last  agonizing 
flight. 

The  mast  cracks  as  if  it  would  break.  The  sail  is 
bellied  out  by  the  wind,  but  her  hull  is  such  a  dead 
weight  that  she  hardly  moves. 

"Hoist  the  top-sails!     Heaven  help  us!" 

Courage !  The  boat  is  under  way  again !  The 
light-house  is  not  more  than  twenty  fathoms  distant, 
but  at  the  harbor-mouth  there  is  a  frightful  chop- 
ping sea. 

Courage!     Misery!     The  mast  goes  by  the  board. 

"Cut  her  free !"  The  hatchets  work  busily.  The 
mast  and  the  sail  drop  into  the  sea.  The  boat  rises 
lightly.  She  still  floats. 

Tossed  from  crest  to  crest,  helpless  now,  she 
pitches  and  rolls  fearfully.  On  the  pier  there  is'a 
frightful  clamor.  Hoo-o-o!  Hoo-oo-oo! 

The  Bon-Pecheur  whirls  about  aimlessly. 

A  wave  strikes  her  on  the  side  and  drives  her  into 
the  harbor.  Courage!  Misery!  She  will  come  to 
grief  against  the  pier!  No!  With  an  effort  which 


A    FISHER   G1KL    OF  FRANCE,  73 

drives  all  the  blood  to  her  heart,  Elise  gives  a 
mighty  shift  to  the  helm.  The  Bon-P^cheur  lies 
over,  her  keel  almost  in  air.  Hoo-oo-oo!  She  has 
gone  down  in  the  yawning  gulf.  No !  She  rolls 
back.  Is  it  for  the  last  time?  No!  The  helm 
brings  her  up.  Ropes  are  thrown  and  seized.  Two 
hundred  hands  make  her  fast. 

"Furl  all  sail!"  The  only  sail  left,  the  little  leg- 
of-mutton  in  the  stern,  is  taken  in. 

And  they  are  in  port!  Hurrah!  Elise,  your 
sloop  and  your  men  are  safe ! 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FLORIMOND  accused  Elise  of  meanness  and 
treachery,  and  declared  that  he  would  never  forgive 
her. 

When  she  had  ordered  the  hatches  closed,  her 
order  had  been  carried  out  so  quickly  that  they  had 
forgotten  him,  as  he  lay  unconscious  under  the 
capstan  hatch,  and  had  nailed  him  in  like  a  package 
in  a  box. 

Shaken  by  the  rolling  and  pounded  by  the  pitch- 
ing, he  had  come  to  himself,  and  had  cried  aloud, 
but  his  calls  were  lost  in  the  noise  of  the  storm. 
Too  impatient  to  wait  quietly  for  the  help  which 
they  seemed  to  refuse  him,  he  had  seized  the 
machinist's  tools  and  pried  with  all  his  force  on  the 
cover.  Not  being  able  to  lift  it  he  tried  to  smash 
it,  this  trap  which  weighed  him  down  like  a  cover 
on  a  coffin.  He  rained  a  volley  of  blows  upon  it. 
Could  it  be  that  they  did  not  hear  him?  If  they 
kept  him  a  prisoner  in  this  way,  it  was  because  he 
was  betrayed. 

Then  he  took  fresh  courage  and  shouted  until  he 
was  breathless,  but  still  the  trap  was  not  raised. 

Then  he  understood.  It  was  to  destroy  him  that 
they  shut  him  up,  to  wipe  out  with  his  death  all  evi- 
dence of  their  insubordination.  In  case  the  boat 
was  lost  they  would  not  let  him  have  a  chance  for 

74 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  75 

life,  as  he  would  have  had  if  free.  He  would  go  to 
the  bottom  with  the  boat  without  being  able  to 
struggle  even,  drowned  stupidly  like  a  rat  in  a  pan- 
try. And  believing  that  the  others,  busy  above, 
were  rejoicing  at  his  approaching  end  he  pounded, 
pounded,  without  stopping. 

He  heard  every  quiver  of  the  boat,  and  listened 
anxiously  to  its  groans  and  wails  of  agony.  He 
heard  the  waves  beating  her  sides,  as  if  to  stave 
them  in.  One  after  another  he  felt  the  blows  strike 
the  hull,  which  trembled  to  its  keel. 

Tonnerre!     To  die  shut  up,  living,  in  his  tomb! 

And  all  on  account  of  this  Lison,  this  girl  whom  he 
had  taken  because  she  was  dying  of  hunger.  He 
was  well  recompensed.  She  was  a  fraud,  a  traitress, 
like  all  the  rest  of  her  kind.  It  was  she  who  had 
brought  him  bad  luck. 

He  had  refused  to  go  after  Firmin,  an  idiot  who 
was  not  worth  the  danger  one  would  have  run  for 
him.  Now  she  was  being  revenged,  this  Lison. 
She  had  bewitched  the  crew;  she  was  captain  on 
deck,  while  he,  the  true  captain,  was  thrown  into 
the  hold  like  the  commonest  sailor. 

Then,  as  his  jealous  fancies  grew,  Florimond 
became  mad  with  anger.  His  breath  came  hur- 
riedly, he  dug  his  nails  into  his  breast,  he  was  burn- 
ing with  rage. 

He  threw  himself  against  the  cover.  If  he  could 
but  break  it  loose,  so  as  to  open  a  passage  and  reap- 
pear in  the  midst  of  these  miserable  dogs,  how  he 
would  lash  them  as  they  deserved.  He  would  show 
them  what  they  gained  in  taking  a  new  captain — 


7  6  A   FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

this  Lison  who  brought  trouble  and  bad  luck.  She 
had  caused  a  mutiny,  without  doubt  that  she  might 
seize  the  helm  and  declare  on  their  return,  with  the 
crew  to  back  her,  that  she  knew  how  to  manage  a 
boat  as  well  as  a  captain.  It  is  death  to  a  boat  to 
have  a  woman  aboard.  If  only  before  he  went 
down  he  could  hold  her  five  minutes  between  his 
fingers,  and  drag  her  strangling  in  the  gulf  with  him. 
Tonncrre!  In  his  rage  for  vengeance  he  tried  to 
lift  with  his  shoulders  the  covering  of  his  prison,  and 
wore  himself  out  in  useless  efforts.  He  was  lying 
flat  on  his  back,  exhausted  by  his  unsatisfied  hatred, 
when  he  heard  the  hatch  open. 

Hardly  had  she  seen  the  sloop  firmly  tied  to  the 
quay  than  Elise  remembered  Florimond.  Was  it 
possible  that,  in  the  midst  of  the  confusion  of  the 
squall,  the  captain  had  been  forgotten?  If  they  had 
gone  down  he  would  have  drowned  without  having 
a  chance  to  fight  for  life,  or  to  ever  see  again  the 
sky  above  him. 

Elise  gave  orders  at  once,  and  to  hurry  their  exe- 
cution took  a  hand  herself.  In  an  instant  she  had 
seized  a  lever  and  ripped  off  the  cover;  then,  drop- 
ping on  her  knees,  in  order  to  see  and  to  speak  more 
clearly : 

"Cousin  Florimond,  we  are  in  port — all  safe!" 

There  was  no  answer. 

"You  frighten  me,  Cousin  Florimond.  Are  you 
injured?"  and  bending  over  him  she  felt  his  fore- 
head and  hands.  She  started  back  suddenly,  fright- 
ened and  shivering.  He  had  risen  to  his  feet,  his 
wide  open  eyes  had  a  strange  glare,  his  raised  finger 


A    FISHER    GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  77 

threatened  her.  His  head  touched  the  ceiling,  his 
face  seemed  strangely  pale  in  the  deep  shadow. 
Elise  was  so  frightened  that  she  threw  herself 
behind  the  machine,  hardly  daring  to  raise  her  eyes, 
and  trembling  as  if  before  a  judge. 

"Listen,  Cousin  Florimond,  the  men  sent  me  to 
the  helm.  I  was  busy  with  the  boat.  It  is  true 
that  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  you." 

She  waited  for  his  response.  Even  .though  it 
should  be  hard  and  unjust,  yet  if  he  would  only 
speak,  she  could  at  least  be  able  to  tell  how  angry 
he  was  by  his  voice. 

"Cousin  Florimond,  answer  me !  Do  you  not  for- 
give me?  It  was  not  my  fault  that  they  made  me 
take  the  helm  in  your  place.  My  body  is  as 
wounded  as  my  feelings.  Do  not  torture  me  any 
more.  Answer  me,  Cousin  Florimond." 

His  lips  did  not  move,  but  his  wide  open  eyes 
glared,  as  if  to  chastise  the  frightened  soul  who 
trembled  under  their  menace. 

"Mercy,  Cousin  Florimond;  will  you  break  my 
heart,  because  I  forgot  you  in  the  midst  of  such 
danger?  It  all  came  about  from  closing  the  hatches. 
I  ordered  it  done  just  as  you  would  have  yourself." 

Rigid  as  his  own  spectre,  Florimond  appeared  ter- 
rible in  his  immobility. 

"Mercy,  Cousin  Florimond!" 

And  poor  Elise,  overcome,  fell  on  her  knees,  her 
face  hidden  between  her  two  hands. 

"Bad  luck!  Tonnerre !  Bewitcher  of  sailors! 
You  made  them  nail  me  in  the  hold,  so  that  you 
would  be  free  to  take  my  place.  It  is  your  turn  to 


78  A    FISHER   GIKJ.    OF  FRANCE. 

be  locked  up.  You  will  stay  here  until  the  arrival 
of  the  commissaire;  then  you  can  tell  your  story  to 
the  police,  you  thief!" 

At  this  sudden  accusation,  Elise  rose  to  her  feet. 
She  was  reassured  by  his  outburst  of  noisy  rage. 
"  I  have  stolen  nothing.  It  was  your  own  sailors 
who  put  me  in  your  place.  It  was  not  my  fault. 
You  were  knocked  senseless,  Cousin  Florimond." 

"Be  quiet,  traitress  and — 

He  stopped  suddenly,  interrupted  by  a  call  which 
made  him  start.  "Hello,  captain";  he  recognized 
the  voice  immediately.  It  was  that  of  the  official  in- 
spector. Turning  to  go  on  deck,  he  said  in  a  low  tone 
to  Elise,  "I  am  going  to  tell  him  of  your  doings." 

"Mercy,  Cousin  Florimond!" 

"Be  quiet,  traitress,  thief!" 

Leaving  her  frightened  and  in  tears,  he  was 
quickly  on  deck.  The  under-commissaire  of  ma- 
rines awaited  him,  very  magnificent  and  dignified,  in 
his  tightly  buttoned  overcoat  and  his  silver-laced 
hat.  He  had  seen  the  dramatic  entrance  of  this 
strange  boat  into  his  port,  and  came  more  from 
curiosity  than  from  the  demands  of  the  service. 
When  he  first  stepped  aboard  he  had  asked  for  the 
captain,  and  thus  had  recalled  him  to  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  sailors. 

Busy  as  they  were  in  unloading  the  nets  in  order 
to  free  the  hull,  or  working  the  pumps,  the  men  had 
not  given  a  thought  to  Florimond.  Besides,  their 
minds  were  so  full  of  Elise,  and  of  her  courage  and 
skill  in  handling  the  boat,  that  unconsciously  they 
had  forgotten  the  real  captain. 


./    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRAACE.  79 

The  officer  had  surprised  them  by  his  unexpected 
demand.  They  brought  him  to  the  capstan  hatch, 
and  hearing  Florimond's  angry  voice  they  had 
spoken  loudly,  so  as  not  to  allow  it  to  come  to  the 
ears  of  authority. 

As  a  rule,  sailors  are  not  happy  to  find  themselves 
face  to  face  with  a  maritime  officer.  They  have 
always  some  little  fault  in  mind.  The  fishing  laws 
are  severe,  and  if  they  cannot  hoodwink  the  police, 
they  are  likely  to  lose  all  their  profits  in  fines  and 
penalties. 

Florimond  had  no  fancy  for  this  class  of  visitors 
any  more  than  his  men,  and  he,  too,  had  upon  his 
conscience  certain  small  sins.  In  engaging  a  woman 
he  had  not  gone  contrary  to  the  law,  which  allowed 
captains  perfect  liberty  in  the  choice  of  their  crew. 
But  in  the  fear  of  being  refused  a  clearance,  he  had, 
when  he  had  showed  his  list,  put  Elise  down  as  a 
man.  On  this  point,  therefore,  he  was  not  entirely 
at  ease. 

On  another  score  also  he  was  troubled.  He  ad- 
mitted to  himself  that  the  blow  with  which  he  had 
laid  open  Barnabe's  head  might  cause  an  inquiry 
to  lie  against  him  for  abuse  of  power.  And  in  the 
uninterrupted  succession  of  conflicts  and  misadven- 
tures which  had  assailed  him  since  his  departure,  he 
could  not  clearly  distinguish  on  whose  side  was  the 
right  or  wrong. 

In  spite  of  his  threats  to  Elise,  therefore,  he  pru- 
dently kept  silence  about  her,  and  told  only  of  the 
two  things  absolutely  necessary — the  disappearance 
of  the  small  boat,  and  the  theft  of  the  nets.  He 


o  A    FISHER   GYAY.    ('/•    I- RANGE. 

made  hardly  any  allusion  at  all  to  Firmin's  being 
carried  off — a  boy  without  relatives — he  stopped 
short.  From  the  capstan  hatch  came  a  burst  of 
sobs. 

"Mercy,  Cousin  Florimond !" 

He  went  on  in  a  louder  tone — "a  little  deserter 
who  got  on  to  the  flambart  in  order  to  seek  adven- 
tures— 

"Mercy,  Cousin  Florimond!" 

"A  young  sea  vermin  who  overturned  discipline, 
who— 

The  commissaire  stopped  Florimond  with  a  cyni- 
cal gesture. 

"You  are  too  excited,  captain !  I  suspect  there  is 
something  hidden  behind  all  this.  I  will  make  an 
inquiry  about  this  little  fellow."  And  he  clambered 
back  upon  the  quay,  where  were  piled  up  all  that 
they  had  saved  of  nets,  floats,  and  rigging.  He 
verified  the  importance  of  the  theft,  examined  the 
parted  hawser  and  the  torn  nets,  then  he  summoned 
all  the  sailors  for  an  inquiry. 

All  answered  alike,  as  if  inspired  by  the  captain. 
There  had  been  no  trouble  on  the  Bon-Pecheur. 
Nevertheless  Barnab£  appeared  otherwise  disposed. 
When  he  saw  his  turn  for  speaking  come,  he  squared 
himself  proudly  and  tossed  his  head,  in  order  to 
attract  attention  to  his  bandages  and  wounds. 

Florimond  saw  him.  He  knew  that  he  would  not 
keep  quiet  before  the  police,  and  that  they  v/ould 
get  from  him  enough  to  make  them  all  trouble.  He 
was  thoroughly  afraid  of  some  foolish  indiscretion. 
One  gains  only  harm  when  one  meddles  with  the 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE,  8 1 

law.  He  placed  himself  directly  before  the  lands- 
man, and,  raising  his  great  figure  to  its  full  height, 
seemed  to  make  that  of  Barnabe  all  the  smaller. 
He  attracted  his  attention  by  a  light  whistle,  and 
frowned  threateningly  at  him. 

Barnabe  dropped  his  head.  From  that  instant  he 
was  docile.  He  had  in  mind  the  lesson  which  he 
had  received  with  the  blow.  One  would  have  said 
that  he  had  been  injured  permanently  in  his  brain, 
and  that  the  presence  of  the  captain  was  enough  to 
paralyze  it.  But  as  he  lowered  his  tone  at  the  dic- 
tation of  his  master,  he  was  rated  at  his  true  value 
by  his  comrades.  He,  no  more  than  the  others,  had 
complaints  to  make,  and  the  inquiry  ended  without 
results. 

The  sailors  had  not  allowed  the  commissaire  to 
perceive  the  presence  of  Elise,  but  hardly  had  they 
seen  him  depart  than  they  ran  toward  the  capstan- 
hatch. 

"On  deck,  Lison!  The  penalty  merchant  is  gone 
back  to  his  shop." 

Florimond  instantly  interposed. 

"Away  there  all !  Let  her  cry  her  eyes  out.  The 
first  man  who  defends  her  I  will  twist  up  like  a  knot 
in  a  sheet !" 

The  men  drew  aside  like  cowards,  and  that  was 
the  end. 

The  necessary  steps  at  the  maritime  bureau,  and 
the  necessary  work  to  get  the  Bon-Pecheur  to  the 
ship-yard,  took  four  long  days.  During  all  this  time 
Florimond  nursed  his  anger.  He  knew  now,  how 
Elise  had  saved  the  Bon-Pecheur,  and  what  a  debt 


82  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

he  had  involuntarily  contracted  to  her.  The 
thought  tortured  him.  He  almost  certainly  would 
not  have  run  the  risks  she  had.  He  would  never 
have  dared  to  drift  for  four  hours  with  open  seams 
in  such  a  storm.  He  would  have  run  before  the 
wind,  he  would  have  fallen  into  the  eddies  of  the 
Vergoyer,  and  without  doubt  he  would  have  met 
death  there. 

He  had  burnings  in  his  stomach,  and  rushes  of 
blood  to  the  head.  Oh,  this  Lison !  He  owed  her 
not  only  "his  boat — he  owed  her  his  life.  He  would 
rather  have  perished.  He  would  not  then  have  had 
such  a  gnawing  at  the  heart. 

Could  it  be  that  his  luck  had  turned?  Never  had 
such  a  chapter  of  accidents  come  to  a  good  skipper. 
What  would  they  say  at  home ;  that  he  was  too 
proud,  and  that  it  served  him  right?  He  had 
always  been  the  first  to  return  without  a  man  lost, 
his  bins  full ;  and  now  to-morrow  he  must  appear,  his 
boat  injured,  his  nets  gone,  four  men  lost,  too,  and 
not  the  tail  of  a  fish.  Would  any  one  believe  that  it 
was  not  his  fault?  It  is  hard  lines  for  a  skipper  to 
have  to  own  defeat. 

In  fifteen  days  he  had  three  times  just  escaped 
with  his  life.  He  had  been  close  to  death,  close  to 
ruin !  He  would  no  longer  be  the  foremost  skipper 
of  that  coast.  A  young  girl  had  stolen  his  glory 
from  him.  He  could  hear  even  now  all  these  sailors 
singing  the  praises  of  this  Lison  in  the  taverns  at 
home.  What  would  they  say  of  him?  He  would 
like  to  take  a  turn  of  a  rope  around  their  evil 
tongues. 


A    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  83 

In  fact,  he  could  no  longer  stand  the  sight  of 
Elise,  and  turned  away  wretched  at  hearing  even 
her  name.  He  kept  her  away  from  the  work,  and 
was  out  of  patience  that  she  must  stay  two  days 
more  on  board.  He  would  have  sent  her  home  with 
half  the  crew,  but  he  was  afraid  that,  before  his 
return,  the  sailors'  tongues  would  have  already  been 
at  work,  building  up  Elise's  fame  on  the  ruins  of  his 
own. 

And  only  when  all  was  ready,  the  nets  and  pro- 
visions stored,  the  sloop  careened  in  the  shipyard 
on  the  beach,  and  the  farewells  exchanged,  did  Flori- 
mond  take  the  homeward  route  with  his  compan- 
ions. 

What  a  sorrowful  return  it  was!  They  walked 
with  lowered  heads,  their  old  knitted  jerseys  tucked 
into  the  bands  of  their  trousers.  They  were  bare- 
foot, with  their  kits  on  their  backs,  their  shoes 
knocking  together  beneath  them.  Sailors  do  not 
use  up  good  shoes  on  bad  country  roads.  Accus- 
tomed to  the  smooth  deck,  and  made  tender  by 
being  perpetually  wet,  their  feet  do  not  take  kindly 
to  these  stony  ways.  They  trotted  and  limped  like 
a  company  in  full  rout.  A  melancholy  return! 

They  mounted  the  rough  path  to  the  cliffs. 
When  they  were  on  their  summits,  they  went,  for 
two  hours,  now  down,  now  up,  across  the  valleys, 
along  the  path  of  the  coast  guards,  close  to  the  sea. 
The  sky  was  clear.  Under  the  cheerful  light  their 
unhappy  condition  seemed  even  more  sad. 

First   came   Elise,  the   least   bent,  the  least  over. 


#4  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

come.  Her  glances  searched  the  horizon  without 
ceasing,  as  if  in  a  last  hope.  One  would  have  said 
that  she  expected  to  see  the  boat  which  had  carried 
off  Firmin  come  sweeping  before  the  breeze.  Her 
thoughts  wandered  away,  dreamy  and  tender, 
toward  the  boy  whom  she  could  not  forget. 

Next  came  the  men,  bent  like  beasts  of  burden, 
their  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

Last  of  all  came  the  captain,  more  despondent, 
more  stricken  than  the  others,  his  large  back  bent, 
not  under  the  weight  of  his  kit — he  would  not  have 
minded  ten  times  as  much ;  the  burden  which 
weighed  him  down  was  one  which  his  strong  shoul- 
ders had  not  felt  before.  Defeat  was  a  heavy  load 
for  him.  Until  to-day,  he  had  laughed  at  bad  luck, 
had  hardly  pitied  those  whose  lives  he  had  seen 
shipwrecked.  Oh,  this  Lison ! 


A   SAD   RETURN. 


Chap.  9. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  sky  seemed  to  mock  them.  Swept  by  the 
winds,  it  was  of  a  limpid  blue,  that  deep  summer 
blue  which  is  mirrored  back  on  the  surface  of  the  sea. 

Two  leagues  on  their  way  the  sailors  came  in 
sight  of  a  village.  From  the  height  where  they 
were  they  could  see  it  beneath  them,  nestling  in  a 
hollow  of  the  cliff.  It  was  a  coast  village,  without 
harbor  or  boats.  The  houses  were  clustered  to- 
gether, half  hidden  by  tender  foliage.  Here,  at 
least,  one  should  be  happy.  The  fishers  earned 
their  living  from  the  beach,  without  fear  of  tem- 
pests, and  this  peaceful  nook  at  this  early  morning 
hour,  sparkling  in  the  sunlight,  seemed  so  cheerful 
that  the  men  stopped,  moved  by  a  vague  longing 
for  comfort  and  rest. 

They  were  trying  to  pick  out  the  tavern,  when 
Florimond  overtook  them.  He  was  in  no  mood  to 
enjoy  seeing  others  happy,  and  his  ill-humor  awoke 
at  the  sight  of  the  peaceful  picture  below  them. 

"No,  truly,  we  will  not  let  them  see  our  wretch- 
edness. We  can  avoid  the  village  by  turning  off 
through  the  fields.  These  landlubbers,  who  stuff 
themselves  until  they  fall  asleep,  would  be  only  too 
happy  to  see  a  procession  of  shipwrecked  mariners. 
People  who  are  fortunate  love  to  make  merry  over 
the  troubles  of  others.  Go  on,  my  lads — starboard." 

8s 


86  A   FISH  EX   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

The  men  did  not  agree  with  him.  When  they 
left  the  boat  they  became  their  own  masters  again, 
and  proposed  to  make  use  of  their  liberty.  A  sailor 
ashore  has  no  captain  but  his  own  inclination. 

Barnabe  spoke  up : 

"Are  these  landlubbers  going  to  prevent  our  hav- 
ing a  drink?" 

And  they  all  began  the  descent. 

"You  pack  of  dry  gullets,"  cried  Florimond ; 
"may  you  be  soaked  with  water  like  an  old 
swab !" 

Then  in  a  rage,  he  turned  toward  the  fields. 

Elise  could  not  resist  a  feeling  of  pity  to  see 
him  set  off  deserted  by  them  all.  Frank  and  tender- 
hearted, she  was  wretched  at  the  sight  of  this  strong 
man  so  upset  by  ill-fortune;  this  captain,  so  proud 
and  confident  in  his  warfare  with  the  sea,  so  pitiable 
in  his  trouble.  She  suffered  from  his  unjust  suspi- 
cions, but  in  spite  of  all,  she  was  not  able  to  repress 
the  impulses  of  her  generous  nature.  Involuntarily, 
in  an  outburst  of  sympathy,  she  went  to  him. 

"Cousin  Florimond,  let  me  go  with  you.  You 
will  not  be  so  lonely  if  we  are  together!  " 

"Get  away,  traitress,  get  away." 

He  could  not  utter  another  word.  His  eyes  were 
bloodshot.  His  lips  stammered  out  weak  abuse. 
He  raised  his  hand  high  above  his  head,  then  let  it 
fall  against  his  side,  and  turning,  hurried  away 
through  the  bright  sunshine. 

"You  are  unjust  to  me,  Cousin  Florimond." 

Elise  dropped  down  on  the  bank  by  the  roadside. 
For  some  minutes  she  watched  his  disappearing  fig- 


A    I*' 1*1  ILK   <;/AV.    OI-    I-KAXCE,  87 

ure.  She  admired  him  so  much  that  in  her  inmost 
heart  she  forgave  him. 

She  laid  her  kit  beside  her,  and  leaned  on  her 
elbow,  resting  her  head  on  her  hand.  Her  thoughts 
were  sad.  But  presently  her  eye  turned  toward  the 
deep  blue  sky  overhead,  where  the  white  clouds 
were  sailing,  then  to  the  north,  where  the  cliffs  fell 
away  and  the  dunes  began,  then  to  the  horizon, 
where  the  Bay  of  Somme  indented  the  sandy  coast. 
She  rose  to  her  feet.  Down  yonder,  beyond  the 
dark  mass  of  St.  Valery,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
white  line  which  marked  the  bay,  she  might  perhaps 
be  able  to  make  out  the  steeple  of  Crotoy,  with  its 
fortress-like  tower.  No.  In  this  strong  sunlight 
everything  was  blurred.  Through  the  warm,  palpi- 
tating air,  even  objects  best  known  and  most  loved 
were  indistinct. 

But,  as  if  it  were  before  her,  she  saw  in  her  own 
mind  her  native  village  and  the  empty  cottage. 
Might  she  not  cherish  a  little  hope?  Who  could 
tell !  Perhaps  Firmin  had  met  some  friendly  boat, 
which  had  taken  him  aboard.  Perhaps  he  was 
already  at  home  and  impatient  at  his  sister's  delay, 
this  lad  who  was  so  little  used  to  waiting. 

She  would  have  liked  to  believe  it,  but  she  had 
had  so  little  happiness  that  she  was  distrustful. 

But  if  Firmin  were  not  there  Silvere  would  be, 
and  he  would  understand  and  help  her.  There  was 
one  person,  at  least,  in  the  world,  who  loved  her. 
For,  as  to  her  boy,  she  knew  well  that  she  lavished 
on  him  more  tenderness  than  he  would  ever  give 
back.  Perhaps  he  had  already  fallen  in  love  with  a 


88  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

life  of  adventure  on  the  flambart  and  forgotten  his 
home.  He  was  so  strong  and  confident. 

At  the  very  thought  of  such  a  desertion  Elise 
began  to  tremble.  No.  The  boy  was  obstinate, 
but  he  had  a  good  heart.  He  would  surely  come 
back.  It  was  more  likely  that  he  was  unhappy, 
and  calling  despairingly  for  his  sister.  His  last  cry 
of  distress  on  the  deck  of  the  flambart  still  rang  in 
her  ears. 

From  their  description  of  her,  it  was  known  at  the 
bureau  at  Treport  that  the  flambart  belonged  to  one 
of  the  principal  ship-owners  of  the  large  seaport  of 
Escaut.  This  reassured  her.  She  would  know 
where  to  make  inquiries.  The  owners  of  the  boat 
had  always  preferred  to  pay  damages  rather  than  to 
risk  coming  into  court  in  such  a  case  as  theirs  was 
now. 

Filled  with  hope,  Elise  took  up  her  march.  In  a 
breath  she  had  passed  the  village,  and  leaving  the 
sea  turned  inland  along  the  St.  Valery  road,  which, 
dusty  and  interminable,  stretched  away  between 
two  rows  of  trees,  stunted  and  twisted  by  the  \vest 
wind. 

Five  leagues  of  this  gloomy  journey  passed. 
Elise  was  more  tired  in  heart  than  in  body.  The 
country  did  not  interest  her  in  the  least.  It  seemed 
shut  in  and  contracted.  One  could  see  only  patches 
of  the  sky;  the  air  was  close  and  heavy.  The 
horizon  could  be  almost  touched  by  the  hand.  The 
soil  was  so  poor,  so  hard  to  till,  that  it  was  cultivat- 
ed only  in  small  patches;  the  plough  furrows  were 
hardly  a  cable's  length.  What  a  contrast  to  the 


SHE   SAW,    ACROSS   THE   BAY,    THE   LITTLE   VILLAGE  WITH 
ITS   WHITE   HOUSES. 


Chap.  10. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.    •  89 

open  sea.  How  the  chest  expanded  there !  What 
mighty  breaths  one  drew!  And  one  took  less  time 
to  turn  a  sea  furrow  from  north  to  south  than  it 
would  require  to  plough  a  field  no  longer  than  a 
harbor. 

Sea  life  is  broad  and  generous.  It  stirs  one's 
mental  activity,  while  it  strengthens  one's  body. 
Elise  was  in  haste  to  see  it  again,  this  sea,  as  beau- 
tiful in  its  rage  as  when  at  peace;  this  sea,  which 
had  made  her  courageous  and  strong,  and  would 
make  Firmin  courageous  and  strong  also. 

At  last,  at  a  turn  of  the  road,  the  whole  Bay  of 
Somme,  with  its  quiet  waves  gliding  under  the  rays 
of  the  setting  sun,  lay  before  her.  Bathed  in  a 
golden  mist,  she  saw,  across  the  bay,  the  little  village 
with  its  white  houses;  she  recognized  the  little  cot- 
tage hidden  away  behind  the  sandy  hillocks  half 
way  up  the  dunes.  Was  the  chimney  smoking? 
Could  Firmin  have  returned?  No,  it  was  a  house 
adjoining.  The  cottage  was  still  empty.  She 
would  sleep  alone  in  it  that  night. 

But  she  could  not  sleep.  Overcome  by  her  emo- 
tion, troubled  at  heart,  feverish  after  her  long  tramp, 
Elise  sought  in  vain  for  the  sleep  that  eluded  her. 
Never  had  her  room  seemed  so  lonely,  so  disquiet- 
ing as  now.  A  ray  of  moonlight,  entering  through 
the  window-panes,  fell  across  its  shadows. 

At  first  the  melancholy  of  the  night  induced  wan- 
dering thoughts.  Then  she  gazed  at  the  door  and 
window,  which  seemed  to  vibrate  in  the  trembling 
moonlight.  Then,  as  her  eyes  accustomed  them- 
selves to  the  shadows,  Elise  was  seized  with  a  sort 


9°  A   FISHED    GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

of  supernatural  terror.  She  was  not  asleep,  but  her 
open  eyes  seemed  to  behold  the  unreal  substance  of 
dreams. 

"Father,  is  it  you?     Father,  answer  me!" 

She  thought  herself  asleep.  It  is  only  in  dreams 
that  one  has  visions  of  the  dead.  She  looked  all 
around  the  room  to  be  certain  that  she  was  actually 
awake. 

Yes,  she  was  awake.  In  the  soft  light  of  the 
moon  she  recognized  distinctly,  one  after  the  other, 
familiar  objects,  just  as  she  had  found  them  on  her 
return :  the  little  bed  where  Firmin  slept,  in  the 
closet  under  the  garret  stairs;  the  large  sideboard, 
where,  under  a  glass,  was  her  mother's  marriage 
bouquet,  a  huge  rose  with  gold  leaves,  and  on  either 
side  of  it  the  two  candlesticks.  Nets  and  fishing 
implements  hung  on  the  walls  or  from  the  beams  of 
the  ceiling.  All  these  old  friends  of  her  past  life 
she  saw  clearly,  each  outline  and  color  distinct. 

No,  she  was  not  asleep,  but  none  the  less  she 
could  not  look  toward  the  door  without  seeing 
before  her  a  face  sweet  and  sad,  clear-eyed  and 
wrinkled. 

"Father,  what  do  you  wish?" 

For  tht  first  time  since  she  had  lost  her  father 
Elise  saw  him  again,  just  as  he  was  in  life,  with  his 
otter  hat,  his  red  neckerchief,  and  his  brown  shirt. 
He  complained  softly  that  she  had  bestowed  all  her 
care  on  Firmin  and  had  left  him,  her  father,  to  lie  in 
the  sands  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  She  had  not 
made  every  possible  effort  with  the  authorities  to 
have  the  place  dragged,  as  had  been  done  before, 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRAN-CE.  91 

so  that  his  body  might  be  recovered  and  laid  in  holy 
ground,  where  his  soul  could  rest  in  peace. 

And  he  told  her  punishment.  Elise  should  not 
see  again  the  brother  whom  she  had  too  jealously 
loved,  until  she  had  earned  him  by  her  filial  devo- 
tion. Unhappy  Elise!  She  was  seated  on  her  bed, 
and  her  two  hands  stretched  toward  the  spectre, 
which  would  not  leave  her;  she  poured  out,  with  all 
the  confidence  of  a  soul  possessed,  her  excuses,  her 
promises,  her  prayers. 

"Father,  I  swear  to  you  that  I  will  know  no  rest 
until  I  have  laid  you  beside  mother." 

Then,  as  if  the  spectre  had  moved  into  the  moon- 
light, it  suddenly  became  distinct. 

Elise  had  seen  it  up  to  this  time  only  through  the 
enveloping  shadows  which  softened  the  rough  out- 
lines, but  in  this  new  light  the  figure  seemed  drawn 
by  suffering.  The  complexion,  formerly  bronzed 
by  the  sea,  was  pale,  the  wrinkles  were  deep-set,  the 
cheeks,  once  so  full  of  laughter  and  health,  were  thin 
from  long  agony,  and  the  eyes  which  a  moment  ago, 
in  the  shadow,  seemed  full  of  a  caressing  light,  were 
now  sunken  and  full  of  reproachful  sadness  and 
melancholy  resignation. 

Emaciated,  and  with  face  nearly  as  white  as  beard 
and  hair,  her  father  seemed  to  have  arisen  from  the 
sleepless  night  of  a  long  illness.  He  could  not  rest 
in  his  sandy  prison  under  the  sea,  with  its  endless 
currents,  the  sport  of  waves,  fought  over  by  sea 
monsters.  They  cannot  cry  like  sea  birds,  these 
voracious  dogs  of  the  sea,  but  their  battles  are  no  less 
noisy.  How  could  a  soul  rest  in  peace  among  them? 


92  A  FISHER  GIRL  OF  FRANCE. 

Elise  had  noted  all  the  marks  of  suffering  on  the 
pale  face,  she  had  read  there  all  his  reproaches.  She 
knew  now  too  late,  that  she  should,  before  anything 
else,  have  sought  her  father's  body,  that  she  might 
lay  it  in  consecrated  ground. 

"Father,  father,  I  swear  to  lay  you  to  rest  in  the 
churchyard.  And  after  that  you  will  let  me  see 
Firmin  again?" 

And  not  to  delay  for  a  moment  the  execution  of 
her  oath,  Elise  put  on  her  dress  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  night  was  soft,  moonlit,  and  silent.  There 
was  not  a  sound  in  the  village,  not  a  breath  of  air  to 
awaken  the  sleeping  life.  The  cock,  turning  on  his 
rod  at  the  top  of  the  steeple,  did  not  creak;  there 
was  not  the  sound  of  a  blind  slamming  against  a 
wall;  not  even  the  furtive  step  of  a  marauding  cat. 
Nothing  could  be  heard  except  the  rhythmic  beat- 
ing of  the  waves  on  the  beach,  and  very  far  away  on 
the  heights,  in  the  direction  of  the  graveyard,  the 
plaintive  howlings  of  a  dog,  wailing  to  the  dead. 

It  must  be  the  captain's  dog.  During  the  fifteen 
days  that  she  had  been  away,  Elise  had  not  thought 
of  her  good  friend,  the  shaggy-coated  and  brave 
fellow,  who  said  so  many  sweet  things  to  her  with 
his  thoughtful  eyes.  She  could  hear  him  still.  It 
was  he,  without  doubt,  but  his  voice  seemed  a  little 
deeper  than  usual.  Why  was  he  howling  so  dis- 
mally, and  so  far  away?  Could  he  have  lost  his 
master?  Elise  had  returned  late  the  night  before. 

She  had  not  heard  the  news.  Could  the  poor 
captain  have  died? 

The  captain  enjoyed  great  consideration  in  the 
village,  not  only  on  account  of  his  merit,  but  on 
account  of  his  rank.  It  is  true  that  he  was  only  an 
officer  of  the  coast  guards,  who  had  been  for  a  long 
time  on  the  retired  list,  but  he  was  better  known 


94  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

than  any  of  the  officers  of  those  parts.  Eating  little 
and  drinking  less,  he  spent  the  greater  part  of  his 
pension  in  stuffing  with  dainties  the  village  children, 
and  in  feeding  his  dog  Barbet,  his  only  friend  and 
the  friend  of  his  whole  life. 

For  twenty-five  years  he  had  lived  in  close  com- 
radeship with  the  same  dog,  this  dog  who  was  now 
watching  on  his  tomb.  The  same  dog?  It  was  not 
possible,  at  least,  to  tell  when  he  was  changed.  His 
history  was  very  simple.  Like  the  greater  part  of 
the  coast  guards,  the  captain  had  adopted  a  dog  on 
entering  the  service.  The  first  of  the  Barbcts  had 
long,  coarse  hair.  One  day  he  had  saved  the  cap- 
tain from  drowning,  and  from  that  time  he  had 
treated  him  as  a  brother  and  faithful  companion. 
And  this  friendship  had  lasted  fifteen  years;  fifteen 
years — the  life  of  a  dog.  Barbet,  grown  old,  had 
gently  come  to  his  end,  but  he  had  left  a  son  as 
shaggy  as  himself,  with  long  hair,  always  full  of 
thistle-heads,  collected  from  the  hedges.  Gentle  as 
his  father,  the  second  of  the  family  had  the  same 
intelligent  and  kind  look,  the  same  affection  for  his 
master.  The  captain  had  fed  him  in  the  same  way, 
had  taught  him  in  the  same  way,  and  had  raised  him 
to  the  same  rank.  They  were  both  corporals,  the  Bar- 
bets,  the  son  as  well  as  the  father.  On  the  days  of 
inspection,  before  the  superior  officer  who  passed 
through  the  town,  Barbet  advanced  at  the  word  of 
command,  his  chevron  under  his  chin,  after  the 
ancient  fashion,  and  a  stripe  of  silver  on  his  legs. 

He  was  proud  of  these  honors,  because  he  had 
earned  them  by  force  of  application.  He  knew  the 


A   FlSUER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  95 

drill,  but  that  he  considered  as  nothing.  He  was 
not  proud,  for  all  the  dogs  of  the  company  knew  as 
much.  He  had  a  real  cause  for  pride  which  no  one 
could  dispute.  He  had  not  an  equal  in  recognizing, 
at  a  distance,  the  boats  of  his  friends. 

From  the  coast-guard  station  on  the  height  of  the 
dune,  he  could  see  them  as  they  arrived  from  sea, 
and  could  distinguish  them  better  than  any  man  or 
woman.  He  announced  them  after  a  fashion  of  his 
own,  by  distinct  barks.  All  the  people  of  the  vil- 
lage had  learned  to  know  what  the  barks  meant. 
During  bad  weather,  when  the  women,  awaiting  the 
return  of  their  husbands,  could  just  make  out,  lost 
in  the  white  foam  of  the  sea,  a  bit  of  sail  above  a 
black  hull,  they  would  consult  Barbet.  Three  barks 
— it  was  the  boat  of  Baptiste  Henin.  Elise,  while 
still  a  child,  on  hearing  him  name  her  father  in  this 
way,  had  wept,  while  her  mother,  with  an  eye  from 
which  the  fire  of  anxiety  had  dried  the  tears, 
watched  the  strife  of  the  little  boat  against  the 
heavy  sea. 

No;  it  is  not  Henin's  boat.  We  can  see  two 
masts.  It  is  the  sloop  of  big  Poidevin.  Look 
again,  Barbet.  The  dog  would  dilate  his  nostrils  in 
the  wind.  Through  his  long  hair  his  fawn-colored 
eyes  would  shine  like  gleaming  points.  Three  barks 
again.  Yes,  it  is  Henin's  boat.  She  comes  as  if  she 
were  flying ;  one  mast  only ;  Barbet  is  right.  And 
when  the  boat,  pitching  and  rolling  through  the 
tumbling  sea,  drew  near  enough  to  be  recognized  by 
all,  then  it  was  that  Barbet  was  triumphant,  barking 
every  time  that  the  hull  disappeared  in  the  waves 


96  A   FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

and  reappeared  on  their  crest.  When,  after  hours 
of  anguish,  that  seemed  longer  than  a  whole  exist- 
ence, the  crowd,  massed  on  the  dune,  finally  see  the 
boat  reach  the  harbor,  and  are  all  hurrying  to  assist 
at  her  arrival,  Barbet  follows  them  in  their  joyful 
course.  When  they  arrive  at  the  harbor,  he  tugs 
on  the  ropes  that  make  her  fast,  then  barks  joyfully, 
while  all  the  dogs  in  the  town  re-echo  his  cries  like 
a  note  of  victory. 

All  these  recollections  of  her  infancy,  at  the  same 
time  sweet  and  sad,  come  back  to  Elise,  while  she 
stands  listening  to  the  howling  of  Barbet  on  the 
dune.  Poor. Barbet!  He  was  the  third  of  his  race, 
still  young  and  strong  in  proportion.  Elise  had 
known  only  two  of  them,  but  she  could  not  tell 
them  apart  any  more  than  their  master  could. 

But  whether  there  were  one  or  two,  it  was  always 
the  same  Barbet,  simple  as  a  tale,  lasting  as  a  tradi- 
tion. What  was  the  use  of  a  pedigree  in  a  family 
where  the  descendant  was  as  good  as  his  ancestor, 
and  when  from  grandfather  to  grandson  the  same 
intelligent  and  kind  spirit  animated  them  all  under 
the  same  body? 

Barbet  ought  to  know  thoroughly  the  history  of 
the  village.  He  had  brought  up  all  the  children, 
and  it  was  he  who  took  them  to  school.  He  had 
learned  the  hour  for  going  and  coming,  and  he 
arrived  punctually,  in  order  to  watch  over  them  on 
the  route.  He  was  a  strong  hand  for  discipline. 
He  detested  an  abuse  of  power  or  injustice.  It  was 
a  bad  day  for  the  older  children  if  they  struck  the 
younger. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  97 

Barbet's  mission  was  to  look  after  the  children. 
He  set  himself  to  discharge  it,  exactly  as  his  master 
had  taught  him.  Never  would  he  have  permitted 
these  little  shavers,  no  higher  than  himself,  to  go  to 
school  alone.  He  gathered  them  into  a  company 
from  all  sides,  their  books  under  their  arms,  their  tin 
forks  tinkling  against  the  iron  plates  in  their  baskets. 
Barbet  opened  his  ears  at  this  sound,  because  his 
little  friends  each  kept  for  him  a  dainty  morsel.  It 
was  the  voluntary  tithe  of  the  weak  to  the  strong 
who  protected  them.  He  did  not  return  to  the 
coast-guard  station  until  after  he  had  seen  them 
safely  home,  one  after  another,  down  to  the  last. 

Eiise  had  gone  to  school  with  him  for  a  long  time. 
She  was  his  favorite,  and  he  displayed  so  much  zeal 
in  her  defence  that  he  would  show  his  teeth  if  any 
one  even  feigned  to  attack  her.  She  had  kept  for 
him  always  the  most  dainty  part  of  her  dinner,  she 
had  caressed  him  with  her  little  hand,  she  had 
looked  into  his  eyes,  bending  her  little  cunning  head 
above  him.  The  little  girl  and  the  dog  were  always 
together  at  playtime.  And  on  the  dune  they 
amused  themselves  chasing,  and  playing  tag,  and 
rolling  on  the  sand,  or  still  more  often  they  looked 
out  over  the  sea,  and  played  at  recognizing  the 
barks,  like  two  corporals  in  service. 

Later  on,  when  she  had  become  larger,  Elise  had 
left  school.  Then  she  had  entrusted  Firmin  to  Bar- 
bet.  Unfortunately  they  were  not  on  good  terms. 
Firmin  did  not  wish  to  be  looked  after,  and  Barbet 
would  not  relax  his  duty.  So  came  about  difficul- 
ties, which  neither  the  interposition  of  Elise,  nor 


98  A    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

even  that  of  the  captain,  were  able  to  prevent. 
Elise  had  been  troubled  by  quarrels,  which  were 
renewed  every  day  more  fiercely.  The  boy  would 
box  Barbet's  ears,  would  pull  him  by  the  tail,  put 
burrs  on  his  head,  and  in  his  eyes.  The  dog,  driv- 
ing the  boy  before  him  by  barking  and  by  pre- 
tended bites,  would  snap  at  his  calves,  now  right, 
now  left,  and  oblige  him  to  march  at  the  end  of  the 
company,  like  the  naughty  boy  of  a  class.  And 
when  Barbet  brought  him  home,  Elise  always  found 
her  brother's  face  streaked  with  tears. 

She  comforted  the  spoiled  child,  and  felt  unkindly 
toward  Barbet  for  the  rough  penance  which  he 
inflicted  upon  the  little  chap,  who  was  so  beautiful 
even  in  his  sulkiness.  With  a  burst  of  maternal 
tenderness,  she  dried  his  great  moist  eyes  and  brown 
.cheeks,  where  the  tears  were  still  running,  and 
quieted  the  last  gasp  of  the  little  sobbing  heart. 

"Do  not  weep  any  more,  my  little  man,  I  will 
scold  this  naughty  Barbet."  But  Barbet  never  was 
scolded,  because  he  had  only  done  his  duty. 

All  these  details  of  the  time  when  she  had  lived 
in  careless  happiness  came  back  to  Elise  as  a  con- 
soling and  refreshing  thought.  She  walked  slowly 
under  the  soft  light,  lost  in  revery,  recalling,  one  by 
one,  these  times  of  her  infancy,  so  sadly  sweet  and 
so  far  away.  And,  losing  herself  in  her  memories  of 
the  past,  she  forgot  the  hard  reality  of  the  present, 
and  Barbet's  howlings,  half  heard,  seemed  like  the 
echo  of  forgotten  sadness. 

She  was  recalled  to  herself  on  finding  that  she  was 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  99 

at  the  door  of  a  little  house  just  out  of  the  village, 
hidden  among  the  trees  on  the  edge  of  a  stream. 
She  had  some  difficulty  in  recalling  how  and  why 
she  had  come  there.  She  was  at  Silvere's  door. 

But  was  this  a  proper  time  to  present  herself  at 
her  fiances  house?  She  waited  some  minutes,  and 
listened  to  hear  if  the  church  clock  would  strike, 
then  impatient  of  the  least  delay,  she  looked  at  the 
moon,  and  from  her  height  in  the  heavens,  knew 
that  it  was  about  midnight. 

After  all,  why  should  she  hesitate?  Was  not  Sil- 
vere's mother  an  excellent  woman,  who  would  be 
happy  to  receive  her  in  her  trouble?  All  came  back 
to  her.  Could  she  have  been  so  troubled  as  to  for- 
get already  the  double  task  laid  on  her,  that  of  find- 
ing Firmin  and  her  father?  Who  would  aid  her  if 
not  Silvere? 

Again  she  heard  Barbet,  who  was  howling  long 
and  plaintively.  It  broke  her  heart.  She  would 
have  liked  to  go  to  him  to  protect  and  console  him 
in  her  turn.  But  if  he  were  in  the  graveyard,  how 
could  she  go  there  without  meeting  the  ghosts 
which  dance  about  the  graves? 

And  at  this  baleful  thought  Elise  saw  again  before 
her  her  father's  spectre,  like  the  ghost  of  a  remorse 
which  would  not  leave  her.  Seized  by  superstitious 
fears,  she  knocked  nervously  at  the  door. 

She  waited  a  long  time  and  exchanged  many 
words  before  she  succeeded  in  having  it  opened. 
At  last  the  bolt  clicked,  the  lock  turned,  the  door 
swung  half  open,  and  in  the  doorway  stood  Silvere's 
mother,  an  old  woman  with  a  sharp  voice  but  a  kind 


loo  A    F1SI1ER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

look.  She  was  only  half  dressed,  and  her  chemise 
only  partly  concealed  her  strong  shoulders  and  her 
old  wrinkled  arms. 

"Alas,  my  poor  daughter,  what  has  happened  to 
bring  you  out  at  such  an  hour?  The  living  do  not 
walk  at  night.  You  must  go  home." 

The  old  woman  barred  the  door  with  her  two 
arms,  as  Elise  stood  on  the  sill. 

"Return  home,  my  poor  daughter.  You  seem 
like  a  ghost."  The  moon  shone  fully  in  the  old 
woman's  face,  but  Elise  had  never  seen  on  her  kind 
features  such  an  expression  of  distrust  and  disquiet. 
She  was  so  disturbed  that  she  had  hardly  strength 
to  speak. 

"Mother  Pilote,  I  need  advice,  and  I  come  to  ask 
it  of  Silvere.  I  cannot  wait." 

"Silvere  has  gone  away,  my  daughter.  Fishing 
from  the  beach  he  found  stupid  work.  The  village 
was  not  to  his  taste  after  you  had  gone.  He  signed 
papers  with  big  Poidevin  on  the  Jcunc-Adolphinc. 
He  thought  that  he  should  see  you  in  the  Scotch 
seas.  He  has  taken  a  roundabout  way  to  meet 
you." 

When  she  heard  that  her  lover  was  gone,  the  only 
one  on  whom  she  could  depend,  Elise  felt  as  if  a 
gulf  opened  before  her  into  which  sank  her  last 
hopes.  Everything  gave  way  at  once,  her  courage 
and  her  strength.  She  leaned  on  the  upright  of  the 
door  to  keep  herself  from  falling,  but  the  old  wom- 
an, thinking  that  she  wished  to  enter,  pushed  her 
firmly  but  compassionately  aside. 

"You  must  go  home,  my  daughter." 


THE   OLD   WOMAN  BARRED   THE  DOOR   WITH   HER  TWO   ARMS 
AS   ELISE   STOOD   ON   THE   SILL. 


Chap.    II. 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  IOI 

From  the  height  of  the  dune  came  again  Barbet's 
howls.  He  had  stopped  from  exhaustion,  but  now 
took  up  again  his  lugubrious  wail,  making  the  night 
sorrowful. 

"You  hear  him,"  said  the  old  woman.  "He  is 
possessed.  They  buried  the  captain  two  days  ago. 
He  cannot  rest  quietly,  or  Barbet  would  not  bewail 
him  so  loudly.  You  must  go  home,  my  daughter." 

"Mother  Pilote,  do  not  send  me  away.  I  do  not 
dare  to  go  to  my  house.  I  have  seen  the  ghost  of 
my  father." 

The  face  of  the  old  woman  contracted  with  a 
strange  look,  and  her  lips  moved  feverishly.  "Go 
away,  my  daughter,  you  bring  bad  luck  to  others. 
Last  night  Florimond  returned  from  his  cruise.  He 
has  told  everything.  You  have  ruined  him.  It  is 
not  your  fault.  Your  father's  soul  is  in  torment. 
I  am  afraid  for  my  poor  Silvere." 

"Mother  Pilote,  listen  to  me.  I  have  seen  the 
ghost  of  my  father." 

"Go  away,  you  bring  bad  luck!" 

And,  as  the  old  woman  rudely  closed  the  door, 
Elise  sank  upon  the  sill,  alone  in  the  world,  and 
overcome  by  her  troubles. 

At  that  moment  Barbet  broke  the  stillness.  He 
had  suddenly  stopped  howling,  and  was  uttering 
short  barks  that  seemed  like  voices  of  consolation 
and  a  summons  to  her  to  hope. 

"  The  soul  of  his  master  has  found  repose,"  thought 
Elise,  and  raising  herself,  as  if  moved  by  some 
strange  presentiment,  she  walked  toward  the  grave- 
yard. The  clock  on  the  tower  struck  midnight. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ABANDONED  by  the  living,  Elise  turned  to  the 
dead,  whose  quiet  peace  seemed  to  her  so  sweet. 
She  reached  the  graveyard  well  before  the  first  rays 
of  the  dawn  had  lightened  the  eastern  sky.  It  was 
still  night,  but  in  the  half  light  of  the  moon  there 
seemed  about  her  mysterious  beings  of  uncertain 
form  and  colors  pale  and  unreal. 

In  climbing  the  dune  Elise  had  often  looked  out 
toward  the  open  sea  to  the  spot  where  a  murmur- 
ing and  a  silvery  whitening  of  the  waves  marked 
the  shoals.  It  was  there  that  her  father  lay  with 
the  others  under  the  treacherous  wave.  But  exactly 
where?  The  shoals  were  large. 

At  the  thought  of  petitioning  the  administration 
and  taking  the  other  necessary  steps,  Elise  was 
greatly  troubled,  so  afraid  was  she  of  the  officials. 
She  had  never  entered  a  maritime  bureau,  and  knew, 
only  by  hearsay,  that  the  men  whom  she  would 
meet  treated  the  poor  harshly.  What  should  she 
say  to  them?  That  she  had  seen  her  father  in 
bodily  presence  in  the  night,  and  that  she  had  been 
bidden  to  find  his  body  and  to  lay  it  to  rest  in 
earth;  tliat  she  was  not  rich  enough  to  meet  the 
expense,  and  that  she  had  come  to  beg  them  to  send 
divers  in  order  to  snatch  him  from  the  engulfing 
sands. 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  103 

But  they  would  demand  the  exact  spot  where  he 
lay,  and  her  father  had  not  told  it.  They  could  not 
dig  up  all  the  Vergoyer.  Surely  that  was  what 
they  would  say.  If  her  father  wished  to  be  found, 
he  must  tell  where  he  was. 

Elise  wore  herself  out  devising  unfeasible  plans. 
A  fancy  seized  her  to  run  to  the  wharf,  to  seize  the 
first  boat  she  came  to,  and  to  sail  alone  to  the  Ver- 
goyer. There  she  would  invoke  her  father  to  make 
his  presence  known.  She  had  heard  that  a  little 
flame  would  dance  on  the  water  at  the  spot  where  a 
body  lay.  But  at  the  thought  of  seeing  this  palpi- 
tating soul  she  was  seized  with  tremors. 

How  wretched  she  was!  She  was,  perhaps,  the 
only  one  in  the  village  who  had  no  relatives.  All 
the  other  girls,  in  trouble  such  as  hers,  would  have 
had  a  grandfather,  or  an  uncle,  to  help  them. 
There  was  no  one  to  help  her  but  Cousin  Flori- 
mond,  who  detested  her,  and  Silvere,  her  betrothed, 
who  loved  her,  but  was  away. 

Unable  to  depend  on  any  one,  she  had  gone  to  the 
churchyard  to  see  Barbet,  and  to  pray  on  the  grave 
of  her  mother,  where  she  hoped  to  find  solace  for 
her  sorrows. 

She  felt  her  hand  tremble  in  lifting  the  latch  of 
the  little  gate,  and  was  frightened  at  the  stillness. 
The  tide  was  out,  and  the  sea  was  at  peace.  Noth- 
ing stirred.  There  was  not  a  sound  of  life. 

Barbet  had  ceased  barking.  Elise  had  come  in 
answer  to  his  call,  and  now  that  she  was  there  he 
was  silent  in  distrust — he  also,  as  if  he  were  waiting 
to  see  what  impious  creature  dared,  at  this  hour,  to 


104  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

enter  this  field  of  shadows  to  disturb  the  sanctity 
of  their  memory. 

She  hesitated  a  long  while.  She  stood  with  her 
fingers  on  the  latch,  and  did  not  dare  to  look 
through  the  bars  of  the  gate  into  this  graveyard, 
where,  under  the  trembling  moonlight,  the  wooden 
crosses  seemed  to  be  joining  in  a  dance  of  death. 

If  Barbet  would  only  howl,  would  only  bark  once. 

"Barbet!     Barbet!" 

A  howl  answered  her,  but  more  unearthly  than 
the  night,  more  mysterious  than  this  spirit-filled 
space  about  her.  Oh !  There  were  ghosts  every- 
where ! 

Yielding  to  a  wild  desire  to  escape  these  super- 
natural beings,  Elise  turned  and  fled.  She  ran 
breathlessly  toward  the  fields.  There  she  was  sure 
at  least  of  meeting  things  which  were  really  alive; 
trees  whose  leaves  rustled  in  the  breeze,  beasts 
sleeping  an  earthly  sleep  in  the  fields  where  they 
fed. 

She  ran  on,  terror-stricken,  leaping  fences  and 
streams,  imagining  herself  pursued.  She  seemed  to 
hear  a  footstep  behind  her,  and  ran  more  madly  still 
through  the  damp  meadow-grasses,  knee-high, 
happy  at  feeling  and  touching  objects  that  were 
real,  at  breathing  the  strong  odors  that  were  born  of 
life.  She  threw  herself  into  the  midst  of  a  herd  of 
cows  who,  waking  with  a  start,  rose  to  their  knees, 
and  dropped  their  heads  to  face  an  attack,  and,  the 
danger  passed,  sunk  down  again  heavily,  dropping 
off  at  once  into  the  dreamless  sleep  of  an  animai. 

Elise  recovered  her  calmness  in  this  contact  with 


SHE  QUICKENED   HER   PACE,    PRESSING   HER   HEAVING  CHEST 
WITH   BOTH   HANDS. 


Chap.    12. 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  l°5 

nature.  She  had  never  imagined  it  so  cheering  and 
so  friendly.  She  had  despised  the  country,  for 
there  all  is  so  pretty,  one  cannot  move  without  find- 
ing a  place  of  shelter  or  protection.  How  different 
this  from  the  sea,  where  one  sails  for  days  and 
nights  without  seeing  aught  but  infinite  space. 

How  sweet  the  odor  of  the  ripe  wheat  and  the 
hops  still  green,  the  reflection  of  the  moon  in  the 
pools,  the  deep  shadows  of  the  trees.  How  will- 
ingly would  she  lie  down  there  in  the  long  grass. 

But  behind  her  there  followed  in  hot  pursuit 
something  whose  form  she  could  not  divine.  The 
cows  seemed  to  look  queerly  at  her  as  she  passed 
them.  She  did  not  dare  to  turn,  she  would  die  of 
fear  if  she  should  look  behind  and  see  what  she 
feared.  She  quickened  her  pace,  pressing  her  heav- 
ing chest  with  both  hands.  She  feared  to  stop,  lest 
she  should  find  herself  face  to  face  with  this  ghostly 
pursuing  phantom. 

She  hoped  for  daylight  to  dissipate  her  fears,  but 
the  first  light  of  morning  had  not  yet  shown  when 
she  sank  down  breathless  and  spent,  in  the  midst  of 
a  field.  There  she  lay  unconscious,  and,  worn  out 
by  all  she  had  gone  through,  fell  into  a  heavy  sleep. 

The  sun  was  high  when  she  awoke,  confused,  and 
with  every  fibre  relaxed  by  the  healthful  rest  which 
had  followed  the  hours  of  fever.  Her  eyes,  still 
heavy,  sought  the  sun's  brightness,  and  her  pale  lips 
opened  to  breathe  the  pure  morning  air.  She 
inhaled  sweet  odors.  Then,  as  she  stretched  her 
arms  to  shake  off  her  lassitude,  she  drew  back  sud- 


106  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

denly  with  a  start,  for  hei  hand  was  licked  by  a 
rough,  wet  tongue.  Involuntarily  she  turned  about, 
and,  recollection  coming  suddenly,  was  seized  again 
with  fright  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

But  around  her,  as  if  that  moment  he  had  thrown 
off  all  allegiance  to  his  dead  master,  Barbet  was 
dancing  gleefully.  He  poked  his  nose  into  her 
hands,  into  her  face,  her  neck,  and  in  a  kind  of 
intoxication  of  affection  and  of  joyful  fidelity,  barked 
and  whined  softly,  as  if  he  meant  to  swear  everlasting 
devotion.  He  seemed  to  say  to  poor  Elise  that  she 
ought  not  to  fear  or  despair,  since  she  had  a  friend, 
a  friend  older  than  she,  but  strong  and  desirous  to 
serve  her. 

It  was  not  Barbet 's  ghost,  but  Barbet  himself, 
with  real  shaggy  hair  and  real  barks.  It  was  not  a 
dream.  Happy  in  the  reality,  Elise  seated  herself, 
quieted  by  this  unexpected  help,  and  hugging  him 
in  her  arms,  talked  to  him  :  first,  of  the  years  that 
were  gone,  and  how  he  had  taken  care  of  her,  and 
afterward  the  little  Firmin,  who  would  doubtless 
soon  return,  self-reliant  as  ever.  And  Barbet  rubbed 
his  big  head  against  the  heaving  breast  of  his  chosen 
friend.  He  looked  at  her  with  a  steady,  friendly 
glance,  but  she  in  her  overflowing  happiness  kissed 
his  face ;  his  eyes,  that  knew  so  well  how  to  read  in 
the  great  book  of  nature;  his  nose,  whose  subtle 
keenness  found  out  the  meaning  of  so  many  hidden 
secrets. 

"Barbet,  old  Barbet.  It  was  you  who  followed 
me.  Why  did  you  not  let  me  know  it  was  you?" 

Yes,   Barbet    had    followed  her.     She   alone  had 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  107 

power  to  make  him  forget  his  dead  master.  There 
was  many  a  one  in  the  village  who  would  have  been 
glad  to  receive  him,  as  a  rare  legacy,  as  a  traditional 
curiosity.  The  day  when  his  master  died  they  had 
dragged  him  from  the  coffin,  and  shut  him  up  in  the 
coast-guard  station  of  which  he  had  been  the  pride 
so  many  years.  Rather  than  submit  to  a  new  ser- 
vice he  would  have  let  himself  die  of  famine.  He 
had  escaped,  and  made  his  way  to  the  grave,  where 
over  the  newly  turned  earth  he  had  bewailed  his  lost 
friend. 

There  again  they  had  gone  after  him.  Nowhere 
will  men  willingly  lose  objects  in  which  they  take 
pride.  Barbet  was  celebrated  on  the  whole  coast 
from  Dieppe  to  Boulogne.  Could  they  lose  the 
glory  of  their  village?  But  faithful  to  the  captain's 
memory,  he  had  resisted  all  attempts  which  had 
been  made  to  draw  him  away.  They  had  given  up 
their  attempts  at  last.  They  had  not  dared  to  take 
him  away  by  force,  and  on  the  tomb  of  the  master 
whom  he  did  not  wish  to  outlive,  he  was  waiting  for 
death,  when  he  had  scented  Elise. 

His  old  friend,  this  kind  Elise,  had  come  there 
in  a  time  of  trouble.  He  saw  her  climb  the  dune 
alone,  without  protection  or  sympathy.  Then  he 
remembered  how  the  captain  had  loved  her,  how 
she  had  been  kind  to  the  lonely  man  when  alone 
and  ill  in  his  old  age. 

Barbet  decided  that  if  his  master  could  speak  he 
would  bid  him  love  Elise,  and  return  her  a  watchful 
affection  and  vigilant  protection  for  her  cares  for 
him.  He  had  decided  to  live  for  her,  to  whom  his 


lo8  A   FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

master  would  certainly  have  left  him,  if  death  had 
not  come  so  suddenly.  When  she  had  called  him, 
he  had  answered  the  cry  of  her  heart  with  an  emo- 
tion strong  and  deep,  but  she  had  not  understood 
and  had  fled  in  fright.  He  had  leaped  over  the  wall 
and  had  followed  her  softly,  wishing  not  to  add  to 
her  terror.  And  now,  through  his  master's  death, 
they  were  to  be  friends  for  life. 

"You  are  all  dirty,  old  Barbet,"  said  Elise  sud- 
denly between  two  tears,  "we  shall  have  to  make 
our  toilet  together."  And  she  led  the  dog  to  the 
nearest  pool. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ELISE  had  made  her  toilet,  and  Barbet  was  beau- 
tiful to  see  as  they  entered  the  village  together. 
But  as  they  passed  along  the  good  people  drew 
aside,  and  mothers  made  haste  to  call  their  children 
into  the  house.  When  they  reached  the  Grand 
Place  they  saw  groups  of  sailors  and  coast  guards 
talking  loudly,  and  heard  the  noise  of  wrangling  in 
the  sailors'  tavern. 

Florimond's  voice  was  above  all  others.  "She  is 
a  sorceress !  She  is  possessed  !" 

Just  then  a  man  ran  into  the  tavern,  and  immedi- 
ately the  sailors  came  out  on  the  doorsteps,  Flori- 
mond  in  their  midst,  crying: 

"Look,  Barnabe ;  do  you  still  persist  that  I  am  a 
liar?  Look  at  the  captain's  ghost  walking  with 
Elise." 

The  sailors  of  the  Bon-Pecheur  were  all  there, 
except  the  four  who  had  been  lost  in  the  small 
boat.  They  had  spent  the  day  before  in  drinking, 
had  tramped  during  the  night,  and  had  arrived  that 
morning,  crossing  the  bay  at  low  tide.  They  had 
heard  at  once  the  reports  in  the  village,  that  Elise, 
since  the  death  of  her  father,  was  possessed,  that 
she  could  cast  a  spell,  and  that  she  would  be  freed 
only  when  her  father's  body  was  recovered. 

Mother  Pilote  was  the  cause  of  all  this.  Since 
109 


110  A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

dawn  she  had  gone  from  house  to  house  telling  of 
the  visit  which  Elise  had  paid  her  at  midnight,  the 
hour  when  the  dead  return  to  earth  again.  She  had 
stopped  at  one  door  after  another,  and  had  repeated 
the  same  story.  If  her  father  had  appeared  to 
demand  help,  it  was  without  doubt  because  he  had 
a  sin  to  expiate.  She  remembered  that  once,  on  a 
night  in  March,  her  husband  had  heard  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Vergoyer,  the  groanings  of  an  old 
corsair  of  Berck,  who  was  drowned  a  few  days 
before,  and  whose  soul  could  not  rest. 

She  was  full  of  laments  that  her  son  was  be- 
trothed to  Elise.  It  was  too  late  now  to  forestall 
ill-luck,  because  Silvere  was  at  sea.  Doubtless  she 
would  never  see  him  again.  She  had  done  her  best 
to  prevent  his  sailing.  Nothing  would  keep  him 
back.  And  such  a  fine  young  fellow,  and  so  good ! 
He  was  just  twenty-four  years  old.  He  could  have 
passed  the  examination  at  Saint  Valery,  and  become 
a  pilot,  as  his  father  was  before  him.  He  need  not 
have  quitted  the  bay.  But  young  people  will  not 
listen  to  reason. 

And  Silvere's  old  mother  wept  as  if  her  son  were 
lost  to  her  forever.  She  was  just  finishing  her  dole- 
ful journey  through  the  village,  and  had  appeared  on 
one  side  of  the  Place  at  the  very  moment  when 
Elise,  with  Barbet,  arrived  on  the  other. 

At  a  glance,  Elise  had  seen  that  the  sailors  were 
not  favorably  disposed  toward  her.  Their  eyes 
were  distrustful,  and  even  threatening.  She  could 
not  imagine  why.  On  their  part,  they  had  no  doubt 
that  the  reports  were  true.  Could  this  Lison  have 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  m 

been  able  to  handle  the  boat  all  alone,  if  she  had 
been  like  other  women?  Surely,  she  was  possessed. 
This  was  the  reason  that  the  small  boat  had  been 
lost,  with  the  four  men.  Their  relatives  ought  to 
put  on  mourning  for  the  whole  four.  The  idea  had 
gained  such  credence  that  Chretien's  mother,  the 
wives  of  the  two  big  fellows,  and  the  children  of  the 
old  sailor  had  not  dared  to  go  out  without  wearing 
black. 

Nothing  could  have  now  destroyed  the  wide- 
spread belief  in  the  evil  influence  of  Elise.  The 
poor  child,  at  the  ill-natured  looks  which  greeted 
her  on  all  sides,  was  stirred  to  her  very  soul.  Just 
then  she  saw  Mother  Pilote.  She  ran  to  her,  sure 
of  a  friend  and  protector.  The  old  woman  recoiled 
in  fright. 

"Alas,  my  daughter!  You  have  destroyed  my 
son,  do  not  destroy  me,  too." 

The  groups  of  sailors  and  coast  guards  had  come 
close  to  her.  Their  noisy  talking  and  their  loud 
jeers  had  drawn  the  people  from  the  neighboring 
streets.  The  whole  square  was  suddenly  overrun. 
Elise  stopped.  She  did  not  dare  to  go  on.  On  the 
right  were  Florimond  and  his  sailors,  behind  them 
groups  no  less  ill-disposed.  On  the  left  was  the 
harbor  and  the  sea;  the  sea  even  more  treacherous 
than  men. 

Elise  shivered  from  the  soles  of  her  feet  to  the 
roots  of  her  hair.  Without  knowing  why,  she  saw 
that  she  stood  alone,  that  she  was  not  only  aban- 
doned but  repudiated,  disgraced,  and  cast  adrift. 
This  was  Florimond's  revenge. 


H2  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

What  could  have  made  the  captain  so  spiteful? 
He  was  gesticulating  triumphantly.  They  knew 
now  why  he  had  failed  in  his  fishing,  lost  his  nets, 
and  injured  his  boat.  Could  the  most  skilful  cap- 
tain have  succeeded  against  the  wiles  of  a  sor- 
ceress? 

As  if  to  support  his  charges,  Barbet,  who  had 
been  walking  with  ears  down  and  tail  between  his 
legs,  suddenly  waked  up.  He  made  the  rounds  of 
the  Place,  smelled  of  the  groups,  and  returned  to 
Elise  with  plaintive  whines,  trying  to  show  his  devo- 
tion by  licking  her  hand  and  by  affectionate  leaps. 
She  did  not  repulse  him.  Having  only  one  friend, 
she  could  not  discourage  the  expression  of  his  frank 
and  strong  sympathy.  She  accepted  his  caresses, 
and  returned  them. 

Encouraged  by  this,  Barbet  began  to  act  excit- 
edly. He  ran  from  group  to  group,  growling  and 
snarling;  then  he  returned  to  Elise,  good-natured 
and  full  of  affection.  It  was  his  fashion  of  showing 
these  perverse  Christians  that  they  were  not  worth 
as  much  as  a  dog  in  divining  the  tortures  of  a  suffer- 
ing soul.  One  would  have  said  that  he  took  pleas- 
ure in  his  own  performance,  for  becoming  more  and 
more  excited,  he  went  through  it  a  hundred  times, 
more  and  more  feverishly,  contorting  himself  until 
he  leaped  about  like  a  crazy  dog. 

From  different  sides  of  the  Place  came  the  same 
shouts. 

"They  are  possessed,  both  of  them!  Let  us  kill 
them !" 

"They  will  bring  sickness  on  the  village!" 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  "3 

"They  will  shipwreck  our  boats!" 

"They  must  die !"  Some  of  the  most  drunken 
sailors  began  to  throw  stones.  Barbet  was  struck 
first.  He  ran  to  Elise  without  a  cry.  He  raised 
himself  on  his  hind  legs,  and  laid  against  her  breast 
his  wounded  foot. 

The  violence  of  the  assailants  was  increased  by 
the  quiet  of  the  victims.  The  people  of  the  village, 
full  of  senseless  superstitions,  began  also  to  throw 
stones  as  if  to  quiet  their  fears  by  the  punishment 
of  these  two  innocent  creatures,  whom  they  fool- 
ishly suspected  of  possessing  evil  power. 

Elise  wept  and  made  no  attempt  to  defend  her- 
self. She  was  self-accused.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
she  was  expiating  the  filial  neglect  for  which  her 
father's  spectre  had  reproached  her.  She  believed 
now  that  she  understood  why  all  these  people  were 
against  her;  they  punished  her  as  an  impious 
daughter,  who  had  no  thought  for  her  father's  eternal 
welfare. 

But  why  were  they  so  furious  at  her  only,  when 
so  many  besides  her  had,  without  disquiet,  left  the 
souls  of  their  shipwrecked  relatives  in  pain.  She 
recognized  many  of  them  among  those  most  furious 
toward  her.  There  was  the  sister  of  the  lame  man, 
the  sons  of  friend  Joseph,  the  mother  of  Amad£e. 
They  had  taken  no  steps  to  find  their  bodies.  This 
ought  to  hinder  them  from  attacking  her,  as  if  they 
had  clear  consciences.  Their  dead,  too,  were  not  to 
be  compared  with  her  father.  Poor  father!  He  was 
so  honest.  She  ought  to  have  tried  to  recover  him, 
if  she  had  had  to  dig  the  Vergoyer  all  alone.  And 


"4  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

waiting  in  silence  her  time  of  deliverance,  she  gave 
herself  up  to  martyrdom. 

But  she  was  not  able  to  keep  back  a  cry  of  pain 
when  a  stone  struck  her  near  the  eye.  Instantly 
there  was  an  angry  snarl,  and  Barbet  flew  at  the 
most  active  sailor,  biting  him  in  the  leg.  The  fellow 
dropped  in  terror,  frightened  for  his  life.  The  dog 
was  surely  possessed  ;  his  bites  would  kill. 

There  was  a  wild  panic  over  the  whole  Place. 
Barbet  returned  to  the  attack,  showing  his  teeth. 
The  sailors  abandoned  their  comrade,  tumbling  over 
one  another  into  the  tavern,  crushing  against  the 
door-posts  in  spite  of  Florimond,  who,  to  show  his 
courage,  shouted : 

"You  run  like  crabs  before  a  dog." 

And  he  kicked  at  Barbet,  who  snarled  at  him 
most  threateningly. 

"Florimond,  do  not  be  so  rash.  It  is  foolish  to 
brave  the  spirits  of  the  dead." 

And  the  man,  who  from  the  other  side  of  the 
Place  shouted  this  out,  took  to  flight  with  all  his 
companions.  Florimond  had  a  little  sense.  He 
did  not  believe  in  these  ideas  of  the  dead  returning. 

"Pack  of  old  women,  just  wait  and  see  how  I 
send  Barbet  off.  If  he  has  the  devil  in  his  mouth, 
I  will  make  him  swallow  him." 

He  strode  forward  to  kick  with  his  heavy  boot 
this  demon  of  a  dog.  A  fresh  snarl,  longer,  sharper, 
harsher,  stopped  him — a  snarl  so  deep  and  unearthly 
that  the  last  of  the  spectators  took  flight,  and, 
panic-stricken  himself,  Florimond  bolted  into  the 
tavern. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  JI5 

Then,  with  the  Place  all  to  themselves,  Elise  and 
Barbet  looked  at  each  other,  half  frightened  at  find- 
ing themselves  alone. 

The  man  who  had  been  bitten  lay  still.  The  skin 
had  not  been  broken,  but  he  imagined  that  he  felt 
in  his  flesh  the  cold  fangs  of  this  dog  of  hell.  He 
lay  at  length,  like  a  child  who  has  been  stunned  by 
a  fall. 

Elise  went  over  to  him,  and  rousing  him,  by  a 
light  tap  on  the  shoulder,  raised  him  up.  On  his 
face  the  traces  of  his  fright  were  still  evident. 

"You,  Barnab6?  Have  you,  too,  turned  against 
me?" 

"It  is  the  fault  of  drink,  Mam'selle  Elise.  I  had 
my  little  glass  to  celebrate  my  return.  The  sailors 
have  fuddled  their  brains  with  these  old  wives' 
stories.  All  the  same  one  doesn't  know  whether 
they  are  true  or  not." 

Elise  did  not  wish  to  hear,  but  Barnab£  began  at 
once  to  repeat  them.  As  clearly  as  he  could  he  told 
how  Mother  Pilote's  gossip  had  made  them  believe 
that  the  ghost  of  Father  H£nin  walked  at  night. 
She  had  accused  Elise  of  witchcraft,  and  of  being 
supernaturally  possessed. 

But  all  was  very  confused  in  his  mind.  Now- 
adays such  ideas  are  no  longer  the  fashion,  and  he 
was  not  familiar  with  them.  He  hastened  to  say : 
"I  do  not  believe  them  at  all,  Mam'selle  Elise. 
Forgive  me;  it  was  the  fault  of  the  drink." 

In  token  of  forgiveness  Elise  held  out  her  hand 
to  Barnab£.  but  he  was  still  a  little  disquieted, 


!'6  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

Occasionally  he  would  throw  a  glance  toward  the 
tavern,  as  if  at  a  place  of  refuge.  She  took  pity  on 
him. 

"You  are  not  afraid  of  me,  I  suppose,  Barnabe? 
I  never  have  done  you  any  harm,  and  never  would." 

"I  do  not  distrust  you  at  all,  Mam'selle  Elise,  but 
Barbet  has  sharp  teeth." 

As  if  to  answer  to  his  name,  the  dog  stepped  for- 
ward. He  smelled  of  Barnabe,  scowled,  wrinkled 
his  nose  disdainfully,  and  returning  to  Elise  hid  his 
head  in  a  fold  of  her  dress. 

"Barbet,  I  do  not  like  dogs  with  bad  manners. 
You  will  not  regain  in  that  way  the  confidence 
which  we  have  lost." 

She  took  with  both  hands  his  kind,  hairy  face,  and 
made  him  bark  his  excuses. 

"Pat  him,  Barnabe;  he  will  not  bear  you  ill-will 
after  this.  He  has  as  much  sense  as  men,  but  he  is 
better  than  they  are."  And  a  treaty  of  peace  was 
concluded  then  and  there  between  Barbet  and  Bar- 
nabe. 

In  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  Barnab£  was  much 
ashamed  at  having  shown  himself  a  coward  without 
any  cause.  While  he  was  on  the  Bon-P^cheur  he 
had  lost  his  former  free  ways  and  his  rough  elo- 
quence. Florimond  had  intimidated  him.  He  did 
not  fancy  facing  the  broad-shouldered  captain. 
Fortunately,  on  land  Florimond  was  no  longer  his 
master,  and  Barnab£  only  wanted  an  opportunity  to 
recover  his  former  position. 

"Mam'selle  Elise,  if  you  do  not  bear  ill-will,  I  will 
be  your  friend  again." 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  117 

"Why  not?  Ought  I  to  feel  harshly  toward  you 
because  of  other  people's  faults?  You  know  that  I 
do  not  bring  bad  luck." 

"Yes,  Mam'selle  Elise,  I  do  not  believe  any  of 
these  stories  about  the  devil  which  they  tell  of  you. 
They  are  old  wives'  fables.  If  you  will  let  me,  I 
will  defend  you  against  the  sailors." 

Barbet  interposed.  He  seemed  to  say  that  it  was 
he  who  was  her  true  protector,  and  that  he  would 
not  allow  others  to  take  his  place,  but  Elise  quieted 
him  with  a  caress,  and  turned  to  Barnabe". 

"I  shall  be  glad  of  your  help.  I  must  go  to  the 
officials  at  Saint-Valery,  and  you  can  keep  me  com- 
pany. A  woman  does  not  dare  to  speak,  and  you 
are  an  orator." 

Then  they  agreed  on  the  time  for  starting.  The 
bay  would  be  dry  before  noon.  They  would  have 
time  to  go  and  return  before  high  tide.  They  were 
turning  to  go  home  to  make  ready  for  the  trip, 
when  the  door  of  the  tavern  opened. 

A  sailor  held  it  ajar  to  watch  Elise.  He  had 
seen  her  talking  with  Barnabe\  and  the  fact  had 
reassured  him.  Should  a  sailor  be  less  courageous 
than  a  landlubber?  He  came  out  at  once,  with  his 
comrades  at  his  heels. 

When  they  were  sure  that  Barbet  was  harmless, 
as  well  as  Elise,  they  joked  after  the  fashion  of 
cowards,  who  think  they  can  save  their  dignity  by 
jibes.  Their  coarse  jests  fell  more  thickly  than 
their  stones  had  a  little  while  before. 

"She  will  be  well  protected,  this  Lison,  by  two 
strong  jaws,  Barbet 's  and  Barnab6's;"  and. they 


118  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

kept  playing  on  these  two  names,  and  went  away 
exclaiming: 

"Barbet  and  Barnabe;  one  as  much  a  dog  as  the 
other.  Barbet  and  Barnab£ !  two  barkers  and  two 
landlubbers !" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  village  had  fallen  back  into  its  accustomed 
quiet,  when  Elise  and  Barnab£  set  out  barefoot 
across  the  sands  of  the  bay. 

Barbet  followed  them  joyfully.  He  seemed  to 
have  been  born  again  to  a  new  youth,  and  was  thor- 
oughly frivolous.  He  tossed  the  crabs  in  air  with 
his  nose,  he  made  the  flocks  of  sea-gulls  take  wing, 
he  leaped  over  the  streams,  and  splashed  through 
the  pools  as  if  he  thoroughly  enjoyed  this  clear  and 
beautiful  July  day. 

In  honor  of  his  new  mistress  he  had  forgotten  his 
daily  duties  and  played  truant,  while  the  village 
children,  left  without  their  guard,  quarrelled  and  pil- 
fered along  the  road  to  school. 

If  he  could  have  seen  his  company  of  scholars, 
some  in  tears,  others  rolling  in  the  dust,  their  hats 
dusty,  their  aprons  torn,  and  their  baskets  upset  in 
the  brook,  he  would  have  been  proud.  During  the 
three  days  since  he  left  the  service,  the  road  to 
school  was  nothing  but  a  field  of  battle.  Hence- 
forth they  would  know  in  the  village  what  he  was 
worth. 

But  this  was  not  the  time  for  serious  reflections. 
Barbet  gave  himself  up  to  pleasure,  for  he  had 
caught  a  smile  on  his  mistress'  face,  and  that  showed 
him  that  she  was  happy. 


120  A    USHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Elise  had  a  strange  pleasure 
in  setting  out  for  the  Maritime  Bureau.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  she  was  beginning  the  task  of  reparation 
which  had  been  imposed  on  her,  and  a  feeling  of 
contentment  and  peace  overflowed  her. 

She  was  not  at  all  deceived  about  Barnab£.  She 
knew  him  to  be  a  braggart,  of  no  principle,  but  in 
spite  of  all  she  was  glad  to  have  him  for  a  guide, 
and  above  all  for  a  mouthpiece.  At  times,  carried 
away  by  his  desire  to  be  useful,  he  made  certain 
suggestions  that  made  her  uneasy. 

"Have  no  fears,  Mam'selle  Elise.  These  scrib- 
blers, all  put  together,  are  not  worth  one  good 
sailor.  They  must  be  spoken  to  firmly.  So  much 
the  worse  for  timid  folk,  if  they  revenge  themselves 
on  them  afterward." 

Elise  had  no  idea  that  she  would  succeed  through 
her  companion's  bravado.  All  along  the  way  she 
reasoned  with  him,  and  explained  the  object  of  the 
call.  She  asked  that  he  would  repeat  to  her,  as 
they  talked  together,  the  remarks  he  proposed  to 
make.  And  while  he  went  complaisantly  over  his 
lesson,  she  corrected  him  and  softened  every  violent 
expression.  But  he  came  back  always  to  the  same 
idea. 

"We  shall  lose  everything  if  we  let  them  treat 
us  with  insolence,  as  they  do  others." 

"Listen,  Barnabe ;  I  think  that  we  shall  gain  more 
by  talking  quietly." 

"No,  Mam'selle  Elise;  allow  me  to  say,  it  is  nec- 
essary to  make  a  heavy  shift  of  the  helm  to  make 
the  ship  come  about  promptly." 


A  FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  121 

Elise  began  to  regret  that  she  had  asked  such 
help.  Her  cheeks  were  red  and  her  heart  beat 
quickly,  when  she  entered  the  Bureau  by  the  side 
of  Barnabe.  She  threw  about  her  an  uneasy  look, 
as  if  to  make  certain  that  Barbet  at  least  had  not 
forsaken  her.  He  was  there,  sober  and  faithful. 

The  room  which  they  entered  was  lighted  by 
one  low  window  at  the  further  end.  It  was  divided 
across  its  whole  width  by  a  railing  the  height  of  the 
elbow,  behind  which,  on  a  large  table,  was  a  huge 
pile  of  boxes,  books,  and  documents. 

The  air  was  damp  and  mouldy.  The  walls  were 
stained  in  spots  by  moisture,  and  the  pigeon-holes 
were  black  from  dampness.  Everything  seemed 
unhealthy. 

Elise  had  too  respectful  an  idea  of  the  Bureau  to 
note  these  signs  of  age.  She  had  not  dared  to 
enter,  but  stood  waiting  on  the  sill,  holding  the  door 
open.  She  started  at  the  sound  of  a  harsh  voice, 
which  appeared  to  come  from  under  the  table. 

"Shut  the  door  there.     You  let  the  heat  in." 

Then  in  a  surly  tone : 

"They're  all  stupid  alike." 

Barnabe"  was  just  about  to  launch  into  his  first 
burst  of  eloquence.  He  stopped  short,  and  turned 
suddenly  to  Elise: 

"Come  into  the  room.  You  will  shipwreck 
everything." 

Timidly  and  softly,  Elise  stepped  forward  just  far 
enough  to  allow  the  door  to  be  shut  behind  her. 
Barnabe  began  in  a  low  tone  and  a  trembling  voice. 
The  beautiful,  sonorous  sentences  which  he  had 


122  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

planned  died  away  on  his  lips.  The  wretched  ap. 
pearance  of  the  room,  and  its  mouldy  odor,  were  so 
little  stimulating  to  the  development  of  a  brilliant 
and  pompous  speech  that  he  lost  the  thread  of  his 
oration.  For  lack  of  anything  better  he  said  simply : 

"We  have  come  about  the  soul  of  Father  H£nin." 

"That  is  a  matter  for  the  Church.  You  should 
not  come  to  the  commissaire  when  you  need  a 
priest." 

Then  Barnabe"  began : 

"We  have  come  hither,  together " 

"There  are  two  of  you,  then?  Let  the  other  one 
step  forward." 

Elise  advanced  to  the  railing.  Behind  the  boxes 
she  saw,  nearly  hidden  from  sight,  a  little  hunch- 
back, who,  with  his  back  toward  them,  was  nibbling 
a  crust  of  bread,  while  he  read  his  newspaper. 

Elise  had  anticipated  an  impertinent  reception, 
and  to  her  it  seemed  to  increase  the  clerk's  impor- 
tance. But  Barnabe"  was  not  so  complaisant.  He 
had  promised  himself  to  be  magnificent  before 
Elise,  and  not  to  allow  himself  to  be  treated  as  a 
common  sailor.  But  from  the  feeling  of  respect 
which  the  sailor  has  for  officials  he  still  kept  himself 
in  check,  and  simply  raised  his  voice : 

"It  is  your  affair,  this  matter  of  Father  He"nin." 

"What  affair?  Explain  yourself,  if  you  want  to 
be  understood." 

"The  affair  of  his  ghost,  which  walks  because  he 
is  at  the  bottom  of  the  Vergoyer." 

From  the  desk  came  a  growl: 

"What  idiots!" 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  123 

Then  all  moderation  forsook  Barnabe".  He  could 
think  of  nothing  but  insults,  which  he  was  about  to 
rain  upon  the  hunchback. 

"You  crooked " 

With  a  look  Elise  stopped  him.  Leaning  on  the 
railing,  she  fixed  on  him  a  look  both  serious  and 
friendly,  as  if  she  wished  to  inspire  him  with  all  her 
confidence.  In  the  half  light  her  pure  profile,  with 
its  somewhat  heavy  lines,  was  softened,  and  she 
seemed  wrapped  in  a  natural  grace  and  delicacy. 
Under  the  influence  of  her  suppliant  beauty,  Bar- 
nabe  turned  over  and  over  his  ideas,  without  finding 
any  which  appeared  to  him  likely  to  meet  with  the 
clerk's  favor. 

A  strange  clerk  this !  He  kept  his  face  always 
out  of  sight,  supported  on  his  elbow,  and  turned  his 
curious  hump  toward  all  inquirers.  It  was  a  piece 
of  affectation  on  his  part.  Not  being  able  to  dom- 
ineer by  his  size  over  the  people  who  came  to  his 
office,  he  had  hit  upon  this  attitude  of  contemptu- 
ous indifference.  In  this  way  he  tried  to  revenge 
himself  for  his  disgrace  upon  those  more  favored  of 
fortune. 

He  had  a  way  of  disconcerting  sailors,  for  they, 
more  than  all  others,  are  outspoken  men,  and 
become  embarrassed  when  they  cannot  meet  one 
face  to  face  and  eye  to  eye.  He  made  them,  as  it 
were,  talk  to  his  hump,  and  he  moved  it  about  at 
them  cunningly  so  as  to  throw  them  into  confusion,  ' 
when  he  saw  that  they  were  well  under  way  with 
their  statements. 

Elise  herself  was  not   able  to  avoid  its  strange. 


124  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

attraction.  She  stopped  looking  at  Barnab£  in 
order  to  look  at  this  strange  clerk,  and,  moved  by 
fear  as  much  as  by  compassion,  kept  her  eyes  fixed 
on  his  pitiful  and  threatening  back.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  the  fate  of  her  request  was  written  on  this 
deformity  if  she  could  only  decipher  it.  She  tried 
to  read  a  favorable  response. 

"It  is  your "  said  Barnabe"  for  the  third  time. 

He  did  not  finish  his  phrase.  He  could  not  restrain 
his  impatience  to  see  at  least  the  nose  of  this 
man. 

He  added  brutally : 

"Have  you  not  another  side  that  speaks  also? 
Are  you  like  one  of  those  round  beasts  who  have  no 
face?" 

The  head  of  the  clerk  disappeared  entirely  behind 
his  hump.  Barbet,  who  up  to  this  time  had  been 
silent  and  respectful,  stood  up,  with  his  fore  feet  on 
the  railing.  He  proposed  to  take  part  in  the  de- 
bate, and  since  the  interests  of  his  mistress  were 
under  discussion  he  wished  it  to  be  known  that  he 
had  the  right  to  interpose.  He  was  no  more 
pleased  than  Barnab6  to  see  a  hump  in  place  of  the 
face  which  he  expected,  and  he  expressed  his  disap- 
probation by  surly  barks. 

The  clerk  turned  about  suddenly.  He  appeared 
frightened.  His  long,  bony  face  was  pale,  and  here 
and  there  were  what  seemed  like  dark  stains.  His 
eye  was  that  of  a  sick  man,  and  his  face  expressed 
sadness  more  than  ill-will. 

At  the  sight  of  Elise  he  appeared  abashed,  rose 
to  his  feet,  laid  aside  the  crust  of  bread,  shook  off 


A   FISH  EX   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  125 

the  crumbs  which  lay  on  his  chest,  ran  his  ringers 
through  his  hair,  and  took  a  hurried  look  at  a  bit  of 
mirror  propped  up  between  two  boxes.  He  forgot 
all  about  complaining  of  the  dog,  and  said  with  his 
best  smile : 

"Mademoiselle,  I  am  entirely  at  your  service.  I 
did  not  suspect  that  this  snip  of  a  sailor  had  such 
charming  company.  These  deck-scourers  do  not 
know  how  to  explain  anything." 

"Deck-scourers!     I'll  scour  your  hump!" 

And  Barnabe  reached  out  his  hand.  Elise 
stopped  him.  She  saw  that  all  hope  for  her  was 
lost,  if  she  did  not  take  the  matter  into  her  own  hands. 
Since  she  had  entered  the  office  she  had  been  mak- 
ing up  her  mind  not  to  leave  until  she  had  gained 
what  she  came  for,  She  shook  off  her  indecision 
and  raised  her  head,  resolute  and  firm. 

The  little  clerk  was  disturbed  under  his  hump. 
He  rubbed  together  nervously  his  thin,  knotty 
hands,  and  with  an  air  of  obsequious  gallantry,  try- 
ing to  make  his  sharp  voice  as  pleasant  as  possible, 
renewed  his  offer  of  his  services. 

"You  injure  your  cause  by  not  explaining  it  your- 
self, mademoiselle.  Your  sailor — 

"Present!  the  sailor!"  cried  Barnab£,  happy  to 
find  a  chance  to  put  in  a  word.  "I  will  tell  the 
whole  affair.  I  have  no  fancy  to  come  here  like  a 
ship's  boy,  and  watch  others  work  the  ship." 

He  looked  at  the  clerk  angrily.  He  seemed  to 
throw  defiance  at  this  chicken-breasted  wretch,  who 
made  himself  agreeable  to  ladies,  preening  like  a 
turtle  dove.  But  the  hunchback  turned  from  him, 


I2  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

showing  Barnabe  the  outline  of  his  crooked  back, 
which  he  worked  at  him  contemptuously.  Barbet 
was  out  of  patience.  Standing  on  his  hind  legs  he 
bristled  up  his  hair  and  moved  his  tail,  now  slowly, 
now  excitedly,  according  to  the  state  of  his  feel- 
ings. 

Elise  saw  that  all  this  boded  no  good  to  her  cause. 

"I  pray  you,"  she  said  to  Barnabe,  "let  me  speak. 
It  was  I  who  saw  my.  father,  and  I  know  better 
what  he  demanded." 

The  clerk  threw  at  her  a  glance  of  intelligence. 

"Yes,  mademoiselle,  speak.  The  sound  of  your 
voice  will  make  amends  to  me  for  having  heard  these 
barkings." 

"Does  Barbet  trouble  you,  sir?  I  will  make  him 
go  out  if  you  wish." 

"Yes,  and  the  other  dog  with  him — 

He  had  not  finished  the  sentence  when  Barnabe, 
seizing  Barbet  by  the  back,  tried  to  lift  him  over 
the  railing. 

"Eat  the  hunchback!  bite  him!  bite  him!" 

Barbet  struggled,  refusing  to  lend  himself  to  such 
unjust  reprisals.  Barnab£  dropped  him,  and  decid- 
ing to  take  vengeance  in  his  own  person  struck  out 
with  his  fist,  and  the  clerk  rolled  over  and  over  on 
the  floor,  uttering  sharp  cries. 

Immediately  from  the  next  room  there  appeared 
a  man  in  tightly  buttoned  overcoat  and  silver  laced 
hat.  He  was  dressed  exactly  as  the  official  whom 
Elise  had  seen  on  the  deck  of  the  Bon-P£chcur  at 
Treport.  He  was  the  under-commissaire,  and  ap- 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  12? 

peared  to  uphold  the  dignity  of  his  office.  With  a 
glance  of  his  eye  he  saw  what  had  happened,  and 
stiffly,  and  as  if  wishing  to  avoid  any  explanation, 
gave  out  the  order :  ' 

"M.  Emile,  you  will  be  good  enough  to  have  a 
placard  fastened  to  the  door — Dogs  not  admitted. 
Turn  these  people  out." 

Without  waiting  to  hear  more,  Barnab6  took 
flight.  But  Elise  could  not  resign  herself  to  see  all 
her  hopes  disappear  on  account  of  such  a  ridiculous 
incident.  She  lifted  her  great  black  eyes  to  the 
commissaire,  sweetly  suppliant : 

"Sir,  I  have  seen  my  father's  ghost.  He  was 
drowned  at  the  Vergoyer.  He  demands  that  his 
body  be  found.  You  have  men  to  do  such 
work." 

The  hunchback  was  still  groaning.  In  his  fall  he 
had  overturned  his  chair,  and  most  unhappily 
caught  his  hump  between  the  four  legs.  He  was 
unable  to  free  himself.  The  commissaire  acted  as 
if  he  did  not  see  him : 

"Well,  M.  Emile,  why  do  you  not  send  these  peo- 
ple away?" 

"You  are  not  listening  to  me,"  cried  Elise.  "I 
have  seen  my  father's  ghost.  He  cannot  rest  in  the 
sea  sands — 

"Go  out — 

And  the  under-commissaire  pointed  so  severely  at 
the  door,  that  Elise  went  in  tears  and  despair.  She 
was  nearly  overturned  on  the  sill  by  Barbet  who, 
rushing  out,  nearly  tripped  her  up,  so  that  she  lost 


128  A   Fl.^UER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

the  consolation  of  hearing  the  chief  in  a  low  tone 
reprimand  his  clerk. 

"I  have  been  hoping  you  would  have  a  lesson  like 
this  for  a  long  time.  I  don't*  pity  you  in  the  least. 
He  who  sows  the  wind  must  expect  to  reap  the 
whirlwind." 


THE  NEXT  NIGHT,   ELISE  SAW  HER  FATHER   AGAIN. 


Chap.   15. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  next  night  Elise  saw  her  father  again,  and 
the  next  night,  and  many  nights  after  that. 

"Father,"  she  cried  in  vain,  "tell  me  where  you 
lie.  I  can  then  let  the  officials  know.  Help  me,  if 
you  wish  to  be  found." 

The  nights  passed,  but  no  answer  came.  Only 
by  sad  looks  did  her  father  plead  his  cause.  He 
never  spoke.  It  was  a  constant  grief  to  Elise,  and, 
exhausted  by  waiting  and  watching,  she,  too,  lost 
the  power  of  sleep.  She  hid  her  head  under  her 
pillows  to  escape  the  ghost,  and  made  Barbet  sleep 
at  her  feet,  hoping  to  gain  a  little  rest  from  the 
presence  of  this  loving  creature. 

Always  the  same  restlessness  and  the  same  sleep- 
lessness, recalling  to  mind  the  duty  she  could  not 
perform,  the  undeserved  punishment  she  suffered, 
the  insults  which  the  men  of  the  village  offered  her, 
and  above  all,  Firmin,  who  had  not  come  home. 

After  many  dispatches  had  passed,  they  had 
finally  learned  about  Firmin,  and  the  flambart  which 
had  carried  him  off. 

She  had  tried  at  first  to  reach  her  port,  but  had 
to  abandon  the  attempt.  Her  hull  had  been  badly 
damaged,  and  she  had  barely  been  able  to  make  a 
Scotch  port,  after  throwing  overboard  everything — 
nets,  salt,  and  supplies.  She  had  towed  her  boat  in 
order  to  save  it. 

X89 


r3°  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

The  sight  of  the  boat  had  been  too  much  for  Fir- 
min.  With  his  usual  obstinacy,  the  boy  had  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  would  not  submit  to  this 
forced  sojourn  among  strangers.  And  one  night  he 
had  made  his  escape  nearly  without  provisions.  He 
had  slipped  into  the  boat,  and  cutting  the  rope,  had 
gone  adrift,  one  hardly  knew  with  what  in  mind. 
The  crew  had  discovered  his  flight  at  daybreak 
only. 

Since  then  there  had  been  no  news  of  him.  What 
daring  and  what  resolution  he  had,  to  trust  himself 
to  a  small  boat  on  an  unknown  sea.  Elise  wept  at 
the  very  idea,  but  it  was  more  from  pride  than 
despair.  She  was  proud  to  know  that  the  boy  was 
so  courageous.  She  was  sure  he  would  return.  He 
was  always  present  in  her  thoughts ;  she  would 
surely  see  him  again  when  she  had  atoned  for  her 
neglect  of  her  father. 

She  worked  without  stopping.  Twenty  days  in 
succession  she  went  to  the  Bureau  at  Saint-Valery. 
During  the  few  moments  that  she  had  spoken  to 
the  under-commissaire  she  had  detected  under  his 
gruffness  an  indulgent  and  generous  nature,  and  to 
this  she  resolved  to  appeal.  But  she  had  not  as  yet 
made  any  headway. 

At  first  she  had  had  to  face  the  mortification  of 
the  hunchback.  When  by  patience  she  had  won 
him  over,  so  as  to  be  permitted  to  enter  the  chief's 
office,  she  met  fresh  difficulties. 

She  recounted  to  him  the  nightly  apparition  of 
her  father  and  the  orders  which  he  had  given  her. 
He  heard  her  with  the  distrust  which  one  shows  to 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  13 l 

lunatics.  He  did  not  speak  harshly,  on  the  con- 
trary, he  bowed  her  out  pleasantly  so  as  not  to 
excite  the  mental  troubles  with  which  he  supposed 
her  afflicted.  The  next  day  she  was  back  again 
with  the  same  fixed  purpose,  and  as  he  sent  her 
away  he  pitied  her  from  the  bottom  of  his 
heart. 

Each  day  it  was  the  same.  The  commissaire  had 
finally  refused  to  allow  her  entrance.  He  found 
Elise  on  the  threshold.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders 
pityingly.  She  attached  herself  to  him,  followed 
him  through  the  town,  and  held  him  a  long  time  at 
the  door  of  his  house.  He  put  her  off,  as  he  best 
could,  with  evasive  answers.  At  last  he  grew  impa- 
tient, was  rude,  and  even  pushed  her  aside. 

Nothing  discouraged  her.  Her  indomitable  reso- 
lution had  won  over  the  little  clerk,  who  perhaps 
was  not  angry  to  see  his  chief  in  the  hands  of  a 
petitioner  with  so  much  persistence. 

"Return  to-morrow,"  he  said  to  her  every  night, 
after  a  fresh  failure.  "Keep  on  returning.  He  will 
yield  in  the  end." 

She  did  return.  She  began  to  be  well  known  on 
the  Place  of  Saint- Valery.  The  idlers  watched  for 
her  coming  and  going.  In  the  sailors'  quarter  there 
was  great  interest.  Bets  were  made  as  to  which  of 
the  two,  the  girl  or  the  commissaire,  would  carry 
the  day. 

He  could  not  contain  himself  longer.  He  threat- 
ened to  bring  the  gendarmes  and  to  protect  himself, 
if  necessary,  by  the  law.  Elise  was  only  more 
active. 


132  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

"Return  to-morrow,"  the  little  hunchback  kept 
saying  to  her. 

She  did  return.  She  found  this  daily  walk  across 
the  bay,  to  which  she  had  become  accustomed,  a  sort 
of  healthful  activity.  She  was  not  tired  herself,  but 
she  tired  out  the  commissaire,  who,  to  get  rid  of 
her,  finally  consented  to  take  the  necessary  first 
steps. 

He  demanded  that  she  should  draw  up  a  petition 
to  the  minister. 

Elise  could  write,  but  she  felt  that  she  knew  too 
little  for  so  important  a  matter.  She  went  to  the 
schoolmaster,  but  he  refused  to  write  of  ghosts. 
Then  she  consulted  the  corporal  of  the  coast  guards, 
and  got  from  him  a  letter  to  her  own  mind,  which 
with  great  delight  she  carried  to  the  commissaire. 
He  refused  to  send  it.  The  minister  would  burst 
out  laughing  at  these  stories  of  phantoms. 

She  would  not  give  up.  She  sought  the  aid  of 
the  notary,  who  drew  up  for  her  a  four  page  peti- 
tion in  beautiful  style.  She  was  not  able  to  under- 
stand the  big  words  and  pompous  phrases.  They 
were  too  grand  for  simple  ears.  But  four  pages — 
that  was  certainly  better  than  one,  and  this  time  the 
commissaire  would  have  nothing  to  say. 

Cheered  by  this  thought,  Elise  quickened  her 
steps  over  the  sands  of  the  bay.  She  had  the  new 
petition  in  her  pocket,  carefully  wrapped  in  a  clean 
handkerchief,  to  keep  the  paper  from  being  rubbed 
or  spotted.  At  intervals  she  touched  it  with  the 
tips  of  her  fingers,  to  be  sure  that  the  four  pages 
had  not  flown  away  in  the  wind. 


A   F1SHEX   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  133 

Four  pages!  That  alone  gave  her  confidence. 
Certain  of  success  she  entered  the  Bureau  almost 
haughtily,  and  marched  gayly  to  her  friend,  the 
little  hunchback: 

"I  am  sure  that  your  chief  will  be  satisfied  now." 

She  untied  the  handkerchief  and  carefully  drew 
out  the  petition,  asking  him  to  read  it.  While  he 
ran  through  the  lines  she  watched  him  anxiously,  to 
judge  of  the  impression  it  made.  He  nodded  his 
head,  and  his  eyes,  slanting  over  the  paper,  light- 
ened with  gleams  which  gave  them  a  malicious 
vivacity.  Elise  thought  that  she  detected  a  kind  of 
satisfied  approbation. 

"It  is  splendid,  is  it  not?" 

"Splendid,  no !  It  is  a  pity  that  you  have  been 
so  poorly  advised." 

Elise  was  discouraged,  but  went  to  the  commis- 
saire.  He  took  the  paper,  opened,  and  returned  it. 

''Four  pages,  my  daughter,  at  least  three  too 
many.  A  half  page  was  enough,  provided  it  was 
well  done." 

He  held  out  the  paper.  Elise  had  not  the 
strength  to  take  it.  He  saw  her  become  suddenly 
pale,  and  reproached  himself  for  having  been  so 
brusque.  He  spoke  more  pleasantly : 

"Petitions,  you  know,  are  just  like  prayers.  The 
shorter  they  are  the  better." 

Then  he  waved  his  hand  toward  the  door,  politely 
but  significantly.  Elise  did  not  move  from  her 
chair.  He  looked  at  her.  She  was  fainting.  He 
waited  impatiently  a  moment,  then  rang  with  all  his 
might  for  his  clerk. 


134  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

"M.  Emile,  take  the  young  girl  away." 

The  clerk  had  run  in  half  frightened.  His  eyes 
moved  from  Elise  to  the  commissaire,  as  if  to  ask  if 
one  had  really  called  him  for  such  a  purpose. 

"Make  haste,  M.  Emile,  take  her  away.  Draw 
up  her  petition  and  let  us  have  an  end  of  her." 

Then,  as  well  as  his  feeble  strength  would  permit, 
the  little  clerk  raised  Elise  and  led  her  into  his 
room.  He  moistened  her  forehead  with  fresh  water 
and  brought  her  to  herself  by  his  delicate  attentions 
and  his  kind  words.  He  was  gentle  and  tender. 
One  would  have  said  that  he  was  delighted  to  assist 
a  creature  weaker  than  himself,  to  find  at  last  a 
chance  to  do  something  worthy  of  a  man. 

When  Elise  was  herself  again,  he  made  her  sit  by 
his  table,  wrote  out  a  beautiful  petition  on  a  large 
sheet  of  paper,  and  guided  her  hand  while  she 
signed  her  name  in  the  right  place. 

He  was  not  so  ugly  after  all,  this  little  clerk  with 
his  playful  hump.  Elise  was  touched  when,  after 
wiping  his  damp  fingers,  he  took  the  paper  by  the 
corners,  folded  it  delicately,  and  with  much  care 
addressed  it. 

When  she  saw  the  name  of  the  minister  beauti- 
fully written  on  the  back  of  the  envelope  Elise  was 
taken  with  a  childish  joy,  as  if  at  last  she  held 
a  talisman  which  would  deliver  her  from  her 
troubles. 

"How  beautiful  it  is,  M.  Emile.  I  am  sure  no  one 
can  write  as  you  can." 

Under  the  charm  of  this  flattery  the  little  clerk 
became  genial.  Whistling  and  thoroughly  pleased 


A    FISHER    GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  Z35 

with  himself  he  held  out  his  knotty  hand  to  Elise, 
who  took  it  affectionately  : 

"Come  again  to-morrow,  mademoiselle." 

Elise  had  returned,  imagining  that  she  would 
already  find  the  reply  to  her  petition.  She  had  no 
idea  of  the  delays  and  formalities  necessary  in  gov- 
ernment affairs. 

She  grew  pale  again,  and  was  quite  upset  when 
the  commissaire  explained  to  her  the  course  which 
her  petition  must  follow.  First  it  must  go  to  the 
Commissaire  of  Marines  at  Dunkirk,  then  to  the 
Minister  at  Paris,  then  to  the  Maritime  Prefect  at 
Cherbourg,  delayed,  perhaps  often,  between  the 
three  places. 

She  went  away,  more  troubled  and  more  discour- 
aged than  before  her  petition  was  written. 

If  only  Silvere  were  here.  She  would  take  him, 
and  go  even  to  Paris,  and  would  not  fear  to  speak 
herself  to  the  minister.  But  Silvere  had  not 
returned. 

He  had  gone  for  a  cruise  of  four  weeks,  and  now 
six  weeks  had  passed.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  a  boat 
never  comes  as  soon  as  those  who  watch  for  her 
hope,  for  there  are  endless  ways  to  lose  time  at  sea. 
Captains  have  often  come  in  months  after  all  hope 
of  them  had  been  given  up. 

The  longer  Silvere's  return  was  delayed,  the  more 
ill-natured  were  the  people  of  the  village  to  Elise. 
They  never  came  near  her;  she  even  had  trouble  in 
persuading  the  baker  to  sell  her  bread.  The  chil- 
dren made  sport  of  her.  They  pushed  one  another 
against  her,  then  made  faces  and  ran  away  as  if 


I36  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

from  an  evil  thing.  In  old  times  they  had  hung 
about  her  in  a  very  different  fashion.  They  were 
all  friends  of  Firmin.  She  had  let  them  play  in  her 
father's  boat,  had  given  them  fish  on  the  return 
from  each  trip;  they  all  loved  her  then.  In  memory 
of  those  days  she  forgave  them  ;  but  Barbet  did  not. 

He  had  given  up  entirely  his  old  habits  and 
refused  to  take  the  children  to  school.  He  had 
now  a  more  lofty  idea  of  duty  and  kept  all  his  time 
and  all  his  devotion  for  his  adopted  mistress. 

This  caused  new  complaints  against  Elise.  Was 
it  to  be  borne  that  a  young  girl  should  keep  to  her- 
self a  dog  that  belonged  to  the  whole  village? 
Ought  Barbet,  who  for  thirty-five  years  had  not 
failed  for  a  single  day  at  his  task,  to  now  go  back 
on  all  his  old  friends,  in  order  to  trot  behind  the 
petticoats  of  a  beggar?  He  was  growing  thin,  and 
it  served  him  right. 

For,  although  she  denied  herself,  Elise  was  not 
able  to  feed  Barbet  as  he  had  been  used.  Like  his 
mistress,  he  lived  on  bread  and  water  only.  He  did 
not  complain ;  he  preferred  an  approving  heart  to  a 
full  stomach. 

But  sometimes  hunger  made  him  a  little  cross, 
and  the  night  before  he  had  not  been  able  to  restrain 
his  injured  feelings.  When  the  mocking  children 
pushed  themselves  against  Elise,  he  had  seized  one 
by  the  throat  and  half  strangled  him.  Until  this 
time  he  had  driven  off  the  most  mischievous  by 
snapping  at  them  as  a  collie  snaps  at  his  sheep,  but 
now,  to  put  an  end  once  for  all  to  these  rude  jests, 
he  had  bitten  in  earnest. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  137 

By  a  strange  coincidence  the  boy  whom  he  had 
seized  was  named  Silvere,  and  all  the  village  was  in 
an  uproar.  Did  any  one  need  further  proof  that 
Silvere  had  perished,  a  victim  of  Elise's  malign 
influence?  Barbet  told  the  truth  after  his  fashion. 
The  big  Silvere !  Such  a  good  fellow  he  was,  so 
kind  to  his  mother.  Poor  Mother  Pilote !  Her 
head  was  always  full  of  fancies,  and  this  last  excite- 
ment had  almost  upset  her  mind.  Whenever  she 
went  out  she  carried  a  bottle  of  holy  water,  with 
which  she  sprinkled  the  roads  to  drive  away  spirits 
from  her  path. 

All  these  troubles  were  charged  to  Elise,  but 
though  the  whole  village  condemned  her  with  one 
voice,  she  did  not  lose  her  faith  in  the  future. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

SHE  had  none  the  less  an  hour  of  weakness  the 
night  that  the  Bon-P£cheur  went  to  sea  again,  after 
more  than  a  month  in  the  ship-yard.  Newly  rigged 
and  freshly  painted  for  her  cruise,  she  had  returned 
three  days  before  from  Treport  and  lay  alongside 
the  quay  ready  to  make  sail  for  the  autumn  fishing. 
It  was  the  longest  cruise  of  the  year  and  they  hoped 
on  it  to  make  up  for  the  losses  of  the  summer. 

It  was  the  second  week  of  August.  The  sea 
stretched  away  like  a  cloth  of  gold  with  silvery 
lights  under  a  rosy  sky  crossed  with  ribbons  of  blue. 
Nothing  was  so  beautiful  as  this  great,  grand  calm, 
flooded  with  a  wealth  of  sunlight,  and  the  Bon- 
Pecheur  seemed  as  if  about  to  start  toward  regions 
of  peace  and  rest.  But  the  sky  troubled  Florimond. 
There  were  indications  of  rough  weather  toward 
the  north.  What  should  he  do  ?  After  losing  so 
many  weeks  should  he  waste  more  days?  This  was 
the  time  of  the  year  for  bad  weather.  He  who 
follows  the  sea  has  a  rough  trade. 

So  the  Bon-P£cheur  set  out,  gliding  over  the 
tranquil  sea  so  quietly  that  she  seemed  not  to  have 
waited  for  night  to  go  to  sleep.  Florimond  was  at 
the  helm,  always  imposing  with  his  great  figure, 
always  impressive  as  he  gave  out  his  orders  in  his 
deep  voice, 

138 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  139 

From  the  height  of  the  dune,  Elise,  broken- 
hearted, watched  the  boat.  She  remembered  when 
the  Bon-Pecheur  had  sailed  before,  and  how  full  of 
hope  she  had  been,  and  how  in  those  days  Cousin 
Florimond  had  been  good  to  her.  If  everything 
had  changed  it  was  because  of  bad  luck.  That  alone 
haa  made  him  unjust. 

Then  the  night  enveloped  with  its  healthful  peace 
men  and  things  alike.  The  Bon-P£cheur  was  still  in 
the  channel.  There  was  so  little  breeze  that  she 
moved  slowly  as  if  to  show  those  on  shore  her  grief 
at  leaving  them  behind. 

They  are  off,  without  Firmin  or  without  me, 
thought  Elise,  and  they  do  not  regret  us. 

She  was  mistaken.  As  he  stood  at  the  helm, 
steering,  Florimond  was  thinking  of  her.  He  said 
to  himself  that  he  should  not  now  have  an  excuse 
for  any  further  lack  of  success,  that  the  sky  was  not 
over-promising,  and  that  after  all  he  owed  his  bad 
luck  to  the  weather  and  not  to  Elise.  At  the  bot- 
tom of  his  heart  he  was  really  ashamed  to  have  been 
so  hard  and  not  to  have  at  least  given  this  innocent 
girl  the  pleasure  of  a  farewell.  And  as  it  was  now 
too  late  to  do  anything,  he  grew  remorseful  and, 
after  the  fashion  of  sailors,  who  expect  always  to  be 
punished  for  their  faults,  was  attacked  by  vague 
terrors. 

Then  night  came.  It  wrapped  him  about — a 
night  without  a  moon,  of  a  deep  blue,  broken  only 
by  the  glare  of  the  lighthouses  which  protected  the 
bay.  A  lantern  was  lighted  in  the  bow  of  the  Bon- 
Pecheur.  One  could  see  it  occasionally  as  the  boat 


14°  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

tacked,  then,  it  too  disappeared.  When  she  could 
see  it  no  longer  Elise  burst  into  tears.  Her  loneli- 
ness seemed  more  lonely  than  ever,  her  lot  more  sad. 
Henceforth  she  would  have  hard  work  to  live,  for 
the  Bon-Pecheur  had  carried  off  her  last  depend- 
ence— her  part  of  the  nets. 

It  had  not  been  difficult  for  Florimond  to  obtain 
from  the  owner  of  the  flambart  a  sum  large  enough 
to  allow  him  to  buy  back  for  the  men  and  himself  a 
complete  outfit  of  nets.  He  had  appropriated  the 
part  he  should  have  accounted  for  to  Elise.  He 
claimed  that  they  were  due  him  as  indemnity  for 
the  losses  for  which  he  held  the  poor  child  re- 
sponsible. 

Elise  had  nothing  else  in  the  world  except  her 
house.  But  if  she  had  had  the  chance  to  sell  that, 
she  would  have  refused.  The  house  had  been  built 
by  her  grandfather,  and  lived  in  by  her  father.  She 
destined  it  for  Firmin,  the  last  of  the  name,  for 
Firmin,  for  whose  return  she  was  waiting  and 
watching. 

In  an  open  boat,  alone,  exposed  to  storms,  how 
could  this  weak  boy  have  resisted  seas  which  engulf 
the  strongest  ?  Without  doubt  he  had  gone  down, 
with  a  last  cry  to  his  sister,  into  some  frightful 
abyss  where  he  would  be  tossed  about  for  all 
eternity.  If  the  boy  was  with  his  father  why  should 
Elise  still  remain  in  this  world  of  trouble,  unhappy, 
always  alone,  with  death  in  her  heart  ? 

Was  it  so  difficult  to  die?  It  would  take  only  a 
few  seconds  to  descend  the  dune.  One  had  only  to 
run  to  the  sea,  to  close  the  eyes  and  walk  into  the 


SHE  WOULD   SEE   AGAIN   THOSE  SHE   LOVED. 


Chap.   16 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  14* 

waves,  persisting  until  there  came  the  final  oblivion. 
Every  one  in  the  village  would  rejoice  ;  perhaps 
then  Florimond  would  forgive  her. 

Half  conscious  only  of  what  she  was  doing,  and 
almost  delirious,  Elise  hurried  where  the  voice  of 
the  waves  called  her,  a  voice  that  dulled  her  reason. 
Lost  in  her  frenzy,  she  struggled  across  the  sand, 
into  which  her  feet  sank  as  if  it  strove  to  hold  her 
back  in  spite  of  herself.  With  tottering  steps  she 
reached  the  water's  edge. 

Since  the  land  would  have  none  of  her  she  would 
trust  herself  to  the  sea.  She  forgot  the  insults  of 
the  villagers  ;  she  would  have  liked  to  have  said 
farewell  to  the  little  hunchback,  to  Barnab£  even, 
to  Mother  Pilote,  the  poor  woman  who  through 
ignorance  had  made  her  so  much  trouble.  She 
would  have  liked  above  all  to  have  left  a  last  mes- 
sage for  Florimond,  that  he  should  not  revile  her 
when  she  was  gone.  Had  she  not  a  right,  since  she 
was  dying  innocent  of  any  crime,  to  have  her  mem- 
ory at  least  left  in  peace? 

She  felt  the  water  already  about  her  knees.  She 
would  see  again  those  she  loved — her  father,  Firmin, 
Silvere,  the  men  in  the  boat,  Chretien,  the  two  big 
fellows,  and  the  old  sailor. 

They  were  all  there  together  in  that  bed  of  the 
tempest.  She  saw  them,  she  spoke  to  them,  gasp- 
ing and  shivering.  Her  father,  Firmin,  Silvere, 
Chretien ;  they  were  all  there.  She  stretched 
out  her  arms  to  them  as  she  ran  into  the 
waves. 

"  Father,  come   and    take  me — I    cannot   move. 


142  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

Father  !  Some  one  stops  me — I  cannot  move  !  I 
cannot  move  !  " 

In  vain  did  Elise  try  to  escape  from  the  force 
which  held  her.  She  tried  to  throw  herself  forward 
with  all  her  might.  She  was  pulled  backward  firmly. 

"  Something  has  seized  my  dress  !  It  is  dragging 
me  away  from  you.  Father,  Firmin  !  " 

She  was  drawn  steadily  back.  She  caught  her 
feet  in  the  folds  of  her  skirts.  She  fell.  She  was 
on  the  beach. 

Do  not  weep,  Elise,  do  not  weep  !  You  shall  see 
them  all  again,  Silvere,  your  father,  Chretien,  and 
your  Firmin  whom  you  so  love.  You  shall  see  them 
all,  it  is  Barbet  who  tells  you  so. 

You  forgot  him,  Elise,  your  faithful  Barbet,  but 
he  would  not  let  you  die.  It  was  he  who  followed 
you,  sad  and  silent.  When  he  realized  what  you 
were  about  to  do  he  dragged  you  back  with  all  his 
strength.  He  is  your  true  friend,  your  guardian. 
You  were  ungrateful  to  forget  him. 

Do  not  weep  any  more,  Elise.  Barbet  leaps  joy- 
fully around  you.  Do  you  not  recognize  his  signs 
of  joy  ?  He  has  consoled  you  in  this  way,  when 
you  were  as  heartbroken  as  now.  Look  how  he 
points  to  the  horizon.  He  turns  as  if  to  beg  you  to 
listen.  He  leaps  again.  Look  !  He  is  trying  to 
make  you  see  a  lantern  just  entering  the  channel. 
Hurry  and  climb  the  dune  so  as  to  see  better  what 
boat  this  light,  so  like  a  far  off  star,  announces. 
Barbet  tells  you.  Forget  your  sorrows  and  listen. 
Two  barks.  It  is  the  Jeune-Adolphine,  big  Poide- 
vin's  sloop. 


A    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  143 

•'  Is  it  really,  Barbet  ?  Is  it  really,  really,  big 
Poidevin's  sloop?" 

Yes,  it  is  true,  really  true.  Just  watch  Barbet. 
He  begins  his  foolish  frisking,  barking  wildly,  but 
always  two  barks  at  a  time.  Have  no  fear,  it  is  big 
Poidevin's  sloop.  It  brings  you  Silvere,  first  of 
those  whom  you  wished.  He  is  the  first  and  will 
show  the  way  to  the  others. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Barbet !  I  shall  see  them  all 
again,  and  I  shall  recover  my  father." 

Elise  waited  a  long  time.  The  lantern  hardly 
grew  larger.  The  course  of  the  boat  which  it  an- 
nounced was  so  slow,  that  it  would  not  reach  the 
port  for  an  hour.  An  hour  is  often  longer  than  a 
year  to  those  who  are  in  suspense. 

"  Come,  Barbet,  quick !  We  shall  meet  him  at 
the  landing.  Mother  Pilote  will  recover  her  senses. 
We  must  go  and  tell  her  the  news.  Quick,  Barbet !  " 

Elise  passed  quickly  through  the  village  and 
reached  the  house  hidden  among  the  big  trees  on 
the  edge  of  the  stream.  She  knocked  joyfully  with 
all  her  might. 

"  Mother  Pilote,  I  have  come  for  you  to  go  and 
meet  Silvere." 

"Who  is  there?" 

"I,  your  Elise,  Mother  Pilote.  Silvere  will  be 
here  in  an  hour." 

"  Go  away  !  My  poor  Silvere  is  no  more  among 
the  living.  Your  troubles  have  made  you  walk 
o'  nights." 

"  Open,  Mother  Pilote  !     I  have  seen  the  lantern 


144  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

of  the  Jeune-Adolphine !  It  will  reach  the  quay  in 
an  hour." 

"  Go  away !  Do  not  bring  trouble  to  my 
house ! " 

"  No,  I  do  not  bring  bad  luck,  for  Silvere  is  not 
lost.  I  have  never  injured  any  one.  " 

"  Go  away  !  It  is  foolishness.  You  cannot  recog- 
nize a  lantern  !  All  boats  are  alike  !  " 

"  It  was  not  I  who  recognized  it,  it  was  Barbet. 
You  know  perfectly  well  that  he  sees  better  than 
any  one." 

"  Barbet  is  accursed  like  you.  Go  away,  both  of 
you." 

"Open,  Mother  Pilote  !  There  is  too  much 
trouble  in  the  village  already  without  my  adding 
more.  Open  !  Ask  Barbet !  " 

".It  is  all  the  same.  I  have  no  fancy  for  night 
visits." 

"  Open  !  Since  Silvere  is  returning,  why  fear  me 
any  longer.  Come,  Barbet,  tell  Mother  Pilote." 

As  if  he  had  understood  her  words  the  dog  gave 
the  two  barks,  known  all  through  the  town  as  the 
sign  of  Poidevin's  sloop. 

"  Do  you  hear,  Mother  Pilote  ?  He  is  never  de- 
ceived." 

The  old  woman  had  gained  a  little  confidence. 
She  did  not  open  her  door,  but  through  the  window 
the  sound  of  her  voice  came  more  clearly. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  it  is  not  all  fancy?  " 

Barbet  barked  again. 

"  If  it  is  true,  wait  a  little,  my  daughter." 

Elise  heard  her  move  from  the  inside  of  the  door 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  145 

a   perfect    array   of    defense,    boards,    chains,   and 
bolts. 

Barbet  had  stopped  barking.  He  jumped  against 
the  door,  which  resounded  under  the  shock,  arid 
which  at  last  opened  a  little  way.  He  slipped 
through  the  space  in  order  to  announce  the  good 
news  to  the  old  woman  by  leaps  and  pirouettes  after* 
his  fashion. 

"  Oh !  my  daughter,  call  off  your  dog.  He  will 
upset  my  pot  of  holy  water." 

Elise  tried  to  enter,  but  the  half-closed  door  pre- 
vented her. 

"  Wait  a  little.     Call  off  your  dog." 

"  Come  back,  old  Barbet,  there  is  no  reason  for 
wearying  every  one  because  we  are  happy.  Come 
back." 

She  was  interrupted  by  a  dash  of  water  in  her 
face  which  half  suffocated  her.  Barbet,  who  received 
it  in  his  open  mouth,  retreated  sneezing. 

The  door  opened  its  full  width.  The  dog  careered 
about  the  old  woman  so  wildly,  and  leaped  so  joy- 
fully upon  her,  that  she  let  fall  her  pot  of  holy  water, 
an  old  tin  vessel,  which  was  battered  shapeless  on 
the  stone. 

"Alas!  my  daughter!  Fortunately,  I  have  no 
more  need  of  it.  Since  the  holy  water  did  not  burn 
you,  you  are  not  accursed.  It  was  all  lies.  They 
were  a  lot  of  wicked  people  to  take  pleasure  in  troub- 
ling you.  Silvere  will  make  them  sing  another  song." 

The  old  woman  hastily  threw  off  her  old  dark  skirt, 
ran  to  her  chest,  drew  out  her  gayest  clothes,  her 
holiday  dress,  a  red  skirt,  green  waist,  and  flowered 


146  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

hood.  While  she  was  dressing  she  kept  on  ejacula- 
ting : 

"  They  will  make  a  long  face,  these  people  in  the 
village!  They  will  have  to  beg  your  pardon. 
Their  heads  were  turned  with  their  fancies  about 
the  devil.  You  will  not  tell  anything  to  Silvere. 
He  will  be  angry  with  me." 

"Oh  no,  Mother  Pilote,  Silvere  is  too  good  a  son 
to  reproach  you.  He  shall  never  do  it  on  my 
account." 

The  old  woman  was  quickly  dressed.  In  her 
haste  she  had  tied  her  hood  crooked,  had  twisted 
her  mantle  in  putting  it  on,  had  caught  the  skirts  of 
her  basque  under  her  belt.  Carefully  and  with  gen- 
tle attention  and  tender  respect  Elise  set  the  bonnet 
straight,  laid  the  mantle  smooth,  and  arranged  the 
basque. 

"  Mother  Pilote,  you  must  look  as  well  as  possible, 
so  that  your  son  shall  be  proud  at  sight  of  you.  He 
will  be  delighted  at  your  appearance." 

They  went  out  together,  calling  out  the  news  at 
each  house,  to  tell  the  wives  of  all  the  sailors  who 
were  on  the  Jeune-Adolphine. 

Their  band  increased  everywhere ;  mothers, 
sweethearts,  daughters,  they  were  a  goodly  com- 
pany as  they  reached  the  wharf.  Barbet  went  be- 
fore, leaping  and  barking,  like  a  fiddler  at  the  head 
of  a  wedding  procession. 

Elise  had  not  been  so  happy  for  a  long  time. 
They  no  longer  feared  her  in  the  village.  Mother 
Pilote  had  treated  her  as  if  she  were  her  daughter, 
and  the  women  spoke  to  her  pleasantly. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  147 

When  they  reached  the  pier  the  lantern  shone 
close  at  hand  in  the  end  of  the  channel,  nearly  at 
the  harbor  mouth.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it. 
It  was  Poidevin's  lantern.  It  was  hoisted  at  the 
top  of  the  mast,  and  by  its  light  they  could  distin- 
guish, through  the  darkness,  the  sailors  they  knew  to 
belong' to  the  Jeune-Adolpliine.  Two  long  barks  an- 
nounced them. 

"  Ho  !  Poidevin  !  "  shouted  all  the  women  to- 
gether in  an  irresistible  burst  of  emotion. 

"  Home  again  !  "  repeated  twenty  voices  through 
the  night,  twenty  voices  with  strong,  well-known 
accents 

When  the  sloop  came  alongside  the  wharf,  and 
its  red  lantern  flooded  the  deck,  showing  big 
Poidevin  himself  at  the  helm,  and  the  black  forms 
of  the  sailors  at  work,  there  broke  out  from  the 
women  cries  of  happiness  and  sobs  of  joy,  and 
Mother  Pilote  drawing  Elise  to  her  lips,  held  her 
fast  in  a  long  embrace.  She  had  seen  Silvere. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

SlLVERE  returned  rich,  for  some  time  at  least,  for 
the  Jeune-AdolpJune  had  made  a  great  success  of 
her  cruise.  She  was  so  heavily  loaded  with  fish 
that  she  had  been  hardly  able  to  reach  the  market 
at  Dieppe,  which  was  better  than  that  of  Boulogne. 
They  had  thus  gained  by  their  delay,  and  when  the 
fish  were  sold  were  well  paid  for  their  trouble. 

Before  going  north  again  for  the  second  cruise 
they  had  come  to  pass  a  week  with  their  mothers, 
wives,  and  daughters,  those  who  tell  off  day  after 
day,  like  a  chaplet  of  sorrow,  the  long  months  of 
absence. 

The  day  after  his  return  Silvere  did  not  leave 
Elise.  All  day  long,  happy  in  being  together,  they 
walked  the  dunes,  confiding  to  each  other  the  over- 
flowings of  their  hearts.  She  told  him  with  caution 
of  the  persecution  of  which  she  had  been  the  object, 
but  said  nothing  about  the  part  which  Mother  Pilote 
had  played.  He  had  learned  the  truth,  however, 
from  another  source,  and  Elise  seemed  to  him  only 
more  attractive  and  more  worthy  of  being  loved. 

"  Elise,  I  will  not  go  on  the  second  cruise.  I  am 
not  willing  to  leave  you  alone  in  the  village.  You 
have  such  speaking  ways.  There  is  no  one  who  has 
their  heart  in  their  eyes  as  you  have.  When  you 
sailed  away  before,  I  felt  that  I  should  never  see 


1 

A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  1 49 

you  again.  I  was  always  on  the  lookout  for  you  in 
the  North  Sea,  and  I  hardly  slept  for  watching  the 
horizon." 

"You  are  good  to  have  loved  me.  I,  too,  often 
called  on  you  when  you  were  far  away." 

"  Let  us  marry,  Elise.  I  will  not  leave  the  vil- 
lage. Mother  Pilote  will  be  delighted." 

"  Listen,  Silvere.  Until  I  have  found  my  father's 
body  I  might  bring  trouble  between  us.  Later  on 
I  will  be  happy  to  be  your  wife,  so  as  to  care  for 
you  and  pay  back  all  the  kindness  which  you  have 
shown  me.  You  are  the  only  one  who  has  not  for- 
saken me." 

"  But  if  your  father  should  ndt  be  found  ?  Ought 
we  not  to  marry  just  the  same  ?  Would  he  wish 
such  an  injury  to  his  child?" 

"Let  us  look  for  him.  I  cannot  bear  the  idea  of 
his  being  tossed  about  pitilessly.  If  you  had  seen 
him,  as  I  have,  you  would  help  me  snatch  him  from 
the  dreadful  sea." 

"  It  is  not  the  will,  it  is  the  means  which  we  lack. 
What  is  it?  Are  you  ill?  Why  do  you  tremble 
so?" 

"  Do  you  see  that  man  watching  us  ?  He  is  hid- 
den in  the  crow's  hole." 

The  crow's  hole  had  been  dug  in  the  sand  by 
hunters,  who  lay  there  in  wait  for  wild  birds  as  they 
passed  overhead.  In  the  first  days  of  autumn  it 
served  as  an  ambush  against  the  gray  crows  from 
the  north,  who  passed  over  the  village  on  their  way 
to  the  neighboring  fields.  It  was  from  them  that 
it  had  taken  its  name. 


15°  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

As  Elise  and  Silvere  came  near,  some  one  crawled 
out,  bent  double  and  creeping  on  all  fours,  as  if  to 
escape  observation. 

"  What  is  Barnabe  after  there  ?  He  is  not  likely 
to  find  any  great  chance  to  do  mischief  in  this  sandy 
waste.  Ho  !  Barnab£  ?  '' 

But  Barnab£  was  deaf  to  the  call,  and  hurrying 
only  the  more,  soon  was  out  of  sight. 

"  I  would  rather  see  his  back  than  his  face,  Elise. 
He,  at  least,  has  made  you  no  trouble  during  my 
absence." 

"  On  the  contrary.  He  has  been  better  than  the 
others.  But  your  coming  has  upset  him.  All  day 
long  he  has  been  looting  threateningly  at  me." 

And  Elise  leaned  more  closely  and  more  timor- 
ously against  her  lover.  He  held  her  hand,  and, 
under  the  firm  pressure,  she  felt  a  caressing  warmth 
which  made  her  heart  glow. 

"  Silvere,  I  have  never  known  anything  so  sweet  as 
being  loved." 

She  threw  a  restful  glance  at  her  lover,  whose 
huge  figure  seemed  a  tower  of  strength  to  her. 

"  I  am  so  strong  now.  One  is  weak  when  one 
fights  alone." 

"  Lise,  my  beloved,  my  two  arms,  all  my  strength, 
belong  to  you  always.  For  your  happiness — 

He  stopped  short.  Elise  had  begun  trembling 
again  : 

"  Silvere,  look — there — behind  us.  He  is  follow- 
ing me.  His  eyes  are  wicked." 

"Who?  Barnab£  ?  Wait  a  moment.  I  will 
give  him  a  bit  of  advice  to  let  you  alone." 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  151 

"  Oh  no  ?  Do  not  leave  me !  I  am  not  happy 
unless  you  are  with  me." 

"  Listen,  Elise.  It  is  intolerable  that  you  should 
be  threatened  by  this  rascal.  I  will  clear  the  road 
of  him." 

Silvere  ran  toward  Barnabe,  who  took  to  his  heels 
instantly,  muttering  threats. 

This  was  not  the  first  day  that  Barnab6  had'  fol- 
lowed Elise,  but  she  had  not  wished  to  say  so  for 
fear  of  making  trouble  between  him  and  Silvere. 
But  she  was  not  able  to  resist  the  urgency  of  her 
lover,  and  let  him  see  a  little  of  how  matters  stood. 

After  the  first  visit  to  the  Bureau  at  Saint-Valery, 
Barnabe  had  returned  to  the  village  in  a  most  self- 
satisfied  state.  He  had  filled  the  tavern  with  his 
boasts,  telling  with  many  words  how  he  had  chas- 
tised the  insolence  of  the  little  hunchback,  and 
swearing  that  he  would  return  the  next  day  to  take 
the  commissaire  by  the  nose.  He  wanted  to  ac- 
company Elise  on  her  second  visit,  but  she  refused, 
thinking  that  such  an  unbridled  advocate  would  ruin 
the  best  cause.  He  was  angry,  and  followed  her, 
declaring  that  he  would  be  her  champion  whether 
or  no,  and  that  he  would  make  her  see  reason  in 
spite  of  herself  and  every  one  else.  She  lad  had  to 
take  a  decided  stand  with  him.  He  followed  her  to 
Saint-Valery,  and  fear  alone  had  kept  him  outside 
the  Bureau.  He  returned  often  with  the  same  in- 
tention ;  finally  he  gave  it  up,  and,  in  revenge  for 
her  slight,  had  gone  over  to  the  girl's  enemies. 

This  that  Silvere  drew  from  her  was  not  all,  for 
Elise  had  not  thought  it  wise  to  tell  everything  to 


IS2  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

her  lover.  Barnabe  was  truly  a  bad  fellow.  On 
their  first  visit  to  Saint-Valery  he  had  made  dis- 
graceful proposals.  If  she  should  recover  her 
father's  body  and  his  money,  Elise  would  be  rich, 
and  he  had  offered  to  marry  her.  He  believed  her, 
then,  capable  of  breaking  her  troth.  At  that  time  it 
is  true  they  thought  Silvere  lost,  but  for  her  he  would 
have  lived  always.  She  would  no  more  be  false  to 
him  dead  than  she  would  have  betrayed  him  living. 
Softened  by  her  thoughts  she  smiled  at  her  big 
friend,  in  all  the  confidence  of  her  heart.  "  Silvere, 
I  am  so  happy.  We  will  work  together  to  recover 
my  father's  body.  Take  me  in  your  boat  to  the 
Vergoyer.  Perhaps  we  can  find  the  place  where  he 
lies.  That  would  help  us  very  much  in  our  demands 
at  Saint-Valery." 

The  following  morning,  well  before  dawn,  all  three 
set  out  together,  the  two  lovers  and  Barbet.  The 
breeze  which  came  with  the  day  sent  them  briskly 
along.  The  sea  was  smooth,  and  in  a  half  hour  they 
were  out  of  the  channel.  Then,  spread  out  before 
them,  they  saw  gleaming  under  the  rising  sun  the 
sea  that  hid,  as  if  under  a  smile,  the  treacherous 
abyss. 

Seized  by  a  strange  emotion  Elise  drew  near  Sil- 
vere— she  found  herself  irresistibly  drawn  as  by  some 
charm  to  this  new  life  so  sweet  and  protecting. 
This  big  Silvere,  who  was  so  gentle,  she  loved  for 
the  faith  he  had  in  her. 

"  Silvere,  I  believe  that  we  shall  find  my  father, 
and  that  he  will  bid  us  marry." 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  153 

They  were  drawing  near  the  Vergoyer.  The  re- 
flection of  the  sun  made  delusive  gleams,  and  a  dull 
rumbling  seemed  to  come  from  the  depth  of  the  sea, 
frightful  like  all  noises  whose  cause  is  not  known. 
The  boat,  now  fairly  in  the  rough  water,  resounded 
under  the  blows  of  the  waves. 

It  was  time  to  take  soundings.  Elise  took  the 
lead,  then  leaning  well  forward  in  the  bow  she 
whirled  it  around  her  head  and  with  a  sudden  fling 
threw  it  far  before  her  into  the  sea.  When  the  boat 
on  its  course  passed  over  the  place  where  it  lay  on 
the  bottom,  Elise  drew  the  cord  taut,  and,  haul- 
ing it  in,  counted  the  number  of  fathoms  which  it 
marked. 

"  Ten  fathoms,  Silvere.  We  are  on  the  shallows. 
Father  was  wrecked  in  the  gulf." 

From  fathom  to  fathom  they  sounded  to  find  the 
greatest  depth.  Silvere  scanned  the  surface.  At 
the  places  where  the  waves  seemed  quietest  he 
fancied  they  would  find  the  greatest  depth.  He 
steered  there,  but  he  was  mistaken — seven  fathoms 
only. 

The  boat  tacked  again.  Misery!  Only  five 
fathoms.  He  changed  her  course.  Twelve 
fathoms  —  at  last  —  eighteen  —  twenty-two  —  keep 
right  ahead,  we  are  approaching  it.  Misery !  It 
shoals  again — nine  fathoms  only.  For  a  long  time 
they  tried  to  find  the  gulf,  which  they  knew  to  be 
at  least  sixty  fathoms  deep. 

"Elise,  time  passes.  We  must  not  delay  if  we 
are  going  to  return  with  the  morning  tide.  The 
breeze  will  not  be  with  us  as  we  go  back.  We  will 


154  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

come  again  to-morrow,  and  will  consult  the  villagers 
who  are  best  posted." 

"Let  us  try  again,  Silvere.  Perhaps  our  ill 
fortune  will  leave  us.  One  cannot  search  always 
without  finding." 

Elise  tried  the  lead  ten  times  more,  but  without 
success. 

"  Enough,  Elise,  let  us  come  about.  The  tide  is 
falling.  We  shall  not  have  water  enough  to  get 
back." 

"  Why  not  wait  until  night !  I  have  no  doubt 
that  if  we  call  upon  my  father  he  will  make  his 
presence  known.  With  you  I  am  not  afraid." 

"No,  this  is  no  place  to  sail  at  night.  One  blast 
from  the  northwest,  and  the  canoe  would  be  turned 
keel  in  air.  We " 

His  words  were  cut  short  by  a  bark.  Barbet  was 
standing  up,  his  feet  on  the  gunwale,  his  ears  erect 
his  nostrils  distended. 

Elise  ran  to  the  stern.  Panting  and  troubled  she 
fled  to  Silvere  for  protection.  Both  were  silent, 
every  nerve  alert,  while  the  boat  held  its  way  with 
no  thought  now  of  turning  about.  Leaning  on 
each  other,  motionless,  they  seemed  united  by  the 
same  feeling  of  tenderness  and  affection. 

At  that  moment  a  sharp,  angry  growl  interrupted 
them. 

"  It  is  no  doubt  here  that  the  lame  man  lies. 
You  know,  Silvere,  the  little  red-haired  man  who 
made  so  much  trouble  in  the  village?  You  remem- 
ber how  Barbet  always  growled  at  him  ?  It  was 
just  as  he  did  now," 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  155 

The  boat  sailed  steadily  on.  Barbet  barked  five 
times.  Elise  hid  her  head  on  Silvere's  breast  and 
murmured  in  a  low  tone: 

"  It  is  the  launch  of  friend  Joseph.  They  are  all 
there  then." 

"Yes,  they  are  in  the  gulf.  They  drifted  there 
after  being  shipwrecked  on  the  shoals." 

"  Oh !  Silvere,  do  you  hear  Barbet  ?  We  are 
over  the  lost  sailors'  gulf." 

"  Eight  barks.  It  is  Amadee's  sloop."  They 
are  all  there.  How  many  besides,  from  Berck  and 
Cayeux,  that  Barbet  did  not  know  at  all  ? 

"Do  you  hear?  Three  times — can  it  be  so — 
three  times  only — three  times — it  is  father."  And 
while  Silvere  struck  the  sail  to  stop  the  boat,  Elise 
cried  out: 

"  Father,  are  you  there  ?  You  will  forgive  me 
now  that  I  have  found  you.  Father,  are  you 
there?" 

The  anchor  ran  out,  and  the  boat  came  into  the 
wind.  Barbet  began  his  barks  again — always  three 
together.  It  was  the  boat  of  her  father  and  his  six 
companions. 

Elise  took  the  lead  and  let  it  slip  overboard. 
When  she  felt  it  had  reached  the  bottom  she  had 
a  shiver.  She  raised  the  cord  slowly  and  drew  the 
lead  aboard  carefully.  Its  bottom,  smeared  with 
grease,  had  brought  up  a  light  covering  of  fine  sand. 
She  looked  at  it  abstractedly  for  a  long  time. 

Silvere  did  not  dare  to  break  in  on  her  pious 
thoughts.  The  full  noonday  sun  shone  in  splendor, 
and  in  the  clear  light  which  seemed  to  envelop  her 


IS6  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

the  young  girl  seemed  to  brighten  and  to  be  alive 
with  a  new  force. 

"  Elise,  we  will  make  a  buoy  fast  to  the  anchor. 
If  we  do  not  go  at  once  we  shall  find  the  bay  en- 
tirely dry." 

Recalled  to  herself,  Elise  made  haste  to  measure 
the  depth. 

Sixty  fathoms,  over  a  bottom  of  fine  sand.  It 
was  surely  the  abyss  which  the  old  men  called  the 
lost  sailors'  gulf.  "  Father,  if  you  are  really  there, 
do  you  pardon  me  ?  " 

At  that  very  instant  Barbet  gave  three  quick  joy- 
ful  barks,  then  kept  on  barking  without  taking  breath. 
He  had  answered  Elise.  He  announced  her  father's 
forgiveness,  the  end  of  all  her  troubles,  and  a  life  of 
health  and  happiness. 

Then  forgetting  her  unhappy  past  in  her  new 
hopes,  Elise  sat  beside  her  lover  and  offered  him 
her  hand. 

"  Silvere,  my  father  gives  me  to  you.  You  alone 
have  not  failed  me.  I  am  no  longer  afraid  of  being 
loved.'' 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AFTER  a  last  thought  consecrated  to  the  past 
they  quitted  the  lost  sailors'  gulf.  At  the  place 
pointed  out  by  Barbet,  Silvere  left  the  anchor,  made 
fast  to  a  float,  as  a  guide  for  the  future.  At  last 
the  boat  headed  for  home.  But  the  wind  was 
against  them,  and  they  made  so  little  progress  that 
they  soon  had  to  give  up  the  idea  of  entering  on  the 
day  tide. 

Elise  saw  this  before  Silvere  told  her.  What  dif- 
ference did  it  make?  She  had  regained  her  hope  in 
the  future,  and,  in  the  reaction  from  her  past  suffer- 
ings, was  thoroughly  happy.  Leaning  toward 
Silvere  she  looked  at  him  so  gratefully  that  the 
young  man  could  not  contain  his  emotion  : 

"  Elise,  you  know  that  I  would  willingly  give  my 
life  for  you.  From  this  hour  there  shall  be  no 
more  sorrow  for  us." 

What  is  Barbet  trying  to  show  them  ? 

"  Is  it  that  wretched  boat  which  excites  him  so  ?" 

"  Yes,  yonder,  with  the  brown  sail.  The  boat 
which  sails  in  our  wake." 

"  It  seems  as  if  it  followed  us,  tack  for  tack.  I 
will  find  out." 

"Silvere,  do  not  let  us  trouble  ourselves  about 
other  people's  affairs  when  they  are  no  concern  of 
ours.  Let  each  one  be  left  to  his  own  devices!  " 


158  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

Silvere  was  obstinate.  He  changed  the  boat's 
course,  he  tacked  and  luffed  at  random,  or  kept 
straight  ahead.  The  other  boat  followed  each 
manoeuvre  exactly. 

The  chase  lasted  for  five  hours.  As  they  had  to 
wait  for  the  tide  they  kept  in  the  open  sea,  so  as  to 
have  more  room  than  in  the  channel;  but  what- 
ever direction  Silvere  took  he  always  saw  astern 
the  little  brown  sail,  taking  the  wind  just  as  he  did. 
It  became  irritating.  He  kept  his  eyes  on  his  un- 
known enemy,  but,  whenever  he  tried  to  overtake 
him,  the  brown  sail  always  escaped  before  he  was 
near  enough  to  recognize  it. 

"  It  is  not  from  our  village.  It  must  be  a  boat 
from  Cayeux.  Parbleu !  We  have  not  had  our 
eyes  open.  I  recognize  that  short  mast.  It  is  the 
Marie-Albert  of  Saint-Valery,  Barnab6's  uncle's 
boat.  There  are  two  men  on  board  and  I  imagine 
that  he  is  one  of  them,  the  wretched  landlubber." 

Elise  was  seized  with  painful  forebodings.  Was 
she  never  to  have  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  pleasure 
free  from  fears?  What  could  he  be  after,  this 
Barnabe',  that  he  attached  himself  to  her  as  if  she 
belonged  to  him  ? 

"  I  will  overtake  him,"  cried  Silvere  suddenly. 
"  I  will  have  satisfaction  or  capsize  first." 

"  Silvere,  I  beg  you,  give  up  this  useless  pursuit. 
If  we  come  up  with  Barnabe'  what  complaint  have 
we  to  make.  Trouble  comes  fast  enough  without 
going  to  meet  it  half-way." 

"  Elise,  since  we  have  spare  time  let  us  make  use 
of  it.  Look  to  the  sail  —  Starboard." 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  159 

Pressed  against  the  tiller  Silvere  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  her,  and  spoke  only  to  give  orders.  He 
changed  the  boat's  course  so  quickly  that  she  re- 
ceived blows  and  shocks  enough  to  capsize  her. 
They  gained  on  the  enemy  by  skilful  sailing,  but 
she  quickly  made  up  what  she  had  lost, and  the  men 
in  both  boats  were  so  occupied,  one  in  flying,  the 
other  in  pursuing,  that  they  paid  no  attention  to 
their  course.  It  was  a  wonder  that  they  had  not 
run  aground  on  the  shoals  twenty  times. 

At  one  time  they  were  so  close  together  that  the 
men  glared  at  one  another,  and  excited  by  this  ex- 
change of  angry  looks  threw  at  each  other  a  volley 
of  insults. 

"You  great  gull,  you  shall  not  have  Elise  to  your- 
self. I  will  come  and  take  her  in  such  a  fashion  that 
she  will  not  resist." 

"  Look  after  yourself.  Your  claws  shall  be  cut 
for  you." 

Barnabe's  uncle,  an  old  fellow  with  a  groggy  nose, 
kept  sullenly  silent,  evidently  in  a  very  bad  humor. 
Elise  interposed  : 

"  Silvere,  I  pray,  let  us  leave  them  alone  if  we 
wish  them  to  leave  us  alone." 

"No,  I  will  scour  the  hair  of  this  miserable  cur. 
What  business  has  he  to  come  smelling  after  us  ? 
Starboard — port." 

His  orders  followed  so  quickly,  that  they  were 
tossed  about  without  cessation.  All  at  once  Elise 
uttered  a  cry  of  distress. 

"Silvere,  we  have  returned  to  the  Vergoyer." 

Silvere    did    not  hear.       He  did  not  know  what 


160  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

risks  he  ran,  or  where  he  was  going.  He  saw  only 
a  brown  sail  which  continually  escaped  him,  and 
which  he  had  sworn  to  overhaul  if  he  had  to  follow 
it  to  the  shores  of  England. 

Every  instant  there  came  new  tacks  and  new 
shocks,  and  on  the  choppy  sea  of  the  Vergoyer  the 
two  boats  pitched  wildly. 

"We  shall  overhaul  them,  Elise — port  !  " 

"  Silvere,  do  not  take  the  trouble.  See,  here  is  our 
buoy.  We  are  back  again  at  the  lost  sailor's  gulf." 

"  Be  quiet.  You  keep  the  boat  back  by  your 
talking.  We  are  losing  headway.  Port — Lise — 
Lise " 

"  What  makes  you  grow  so  pale  !  You  frighten 
me!" 

"  Lise — Lise ' 

"  Enough,  Silvere.  We  risk  our  lives  at  every 
tack.  Shall  we  keep  on  until  the  Vergoyer  has  de- 
voured us  too?  You  frighten  me — you  are  so 
pale — speak  to  me — speak  to  me.  Let  us  give  up 
the  chase,  I  beg,  as  a  proof  of  friendship." 

. "  Lise— Lise— 

"  Are  you  suffering  ? — answer  me — have  you 
had  a  blow  ?  We  shall  surely  be  capsized  if  we  do 
not  get  away  from  here." 

"  Elise — there — there " 

"  Speak  plainly !  You  are  killing  me  with 
anxiety  ! " 

"  There — the  brown  sail " 

"  Misery !  Can  it  be  ?  What  has  become  of 
her?  I  cannot  see  her.  Barnab£ — ahoy!  " 

Elise  shouted  again  and  kept  on  shouting,  but 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  ll 

Barnab£  did  not  answer.  At  the  minute  she  had 
lost  sight  of  him  he  had  brought  his  boat  about  at 
the  wrong  moment,  and  it  had  turned  over  so  easily 
that  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  intended  it. 

Poor  Barnabe"  !  He  had  better  have  gone  again 
on  the  Bon-Pecheur.  But  at  the  thought  of  finding 
himself  face  to  face  with  Florimond  for  long  weeks, 
fast  between  two  planks  with  no  chance  of  escape, 
he  was  anxious  to  cancel  his  engagement.  His  re- 
quest had  been  promptly  granted.  No  one  regrets 
losing  a  bad  companion. 

Their  thoughts  were  full  of  him  as  Elise  and  Sil- 
vere  left  the  Vergoyer.  Poor  Barnab6!  He  was 
not  really  bad  at  heart.  He  was  more  dangerous 
in  his  friendships  than  in  his  enmity,  for  his  evil 
tongue  spoiled  all  the  good  he  did.  He  certainly 
did  delight  to  annoy  others,  and  so  was  the  cause  of 
his  own  death.  Ought  one  not  to  forgive  him? 

Elise  remained  thoughtful  for  a  long  time.  She 
had  gone  to  the  stern,  and  was  leaning  on  Silvere's 
shoulder  while  he  delicately  lent  himself  to  the  rdle 
of  protector.  He  laid  a  course  that  did  not  require 
him  to  change  the  sail,  and  in  working  the  tiller  he 
was  careful  not  to  stir  his  shoulder  where  Elise's 
head  was  lying  quietly  in  melancholy  abstraction. 
Sweet  Elise !  He  did  not  dare  to  bend  his  head  so 
as  to  look  at  her,  but  he  felt  that  she  was  in  a  revery, 
and  held  his  great  body  still  in  a  sort  of  respectful 
adoration. 

He  surrounded  her  with  caressing  thoughts.  He 
felt  the  warmth  of  her  forehead  on  his  shoulder,  her 
hair  brushed  his  cheek.  He  heard  her  breath  light 


1 62  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

and  soft  in  rhythm  with  the  rough  breathing  of  Bar- 
bet.  The  rise  and  fall  of  her  chest,  supported  on 
his  own,  sent  through  him  a  shiver  of  pleasure. 
He  smiled  over  her,  his  dear  Elise,  with  that  sweet 
smile  which  fathers  have  for  frail  children  to  whom 
they  give  all  tenderness. 

Elise's  thought  was  at  the  same  time  pleasant 
and  sorrowful.  She  held  Barbet  between  her 
crossed  arms  and  craftily  closed  his  mouth  to  re- 
strain his  joyous  •  outbursts.  Truly  the  dog  was 
lacking  in  reserve.  From  the  moment  that  the 
brown  sail  had  disappeared  he  had  broken  out  into 
joyful  barks.  Even  at  this  very  moment,  notwith- 
standing her  fingers  which  with  all  their  might  held 
his  mouth  closed,  he  half  opened  it  and  threw  out 
little  joyful  cries.  Elise  awoke  with  a  start  from 
her  dream. 

"You  have  no  respect,  Barbet.  Come,  be  quiet. 
It  is  only  a  villain  who  rejoices  over  the  death  of 
others.  Be  quiet." 

Recalled  to  propriety  by  a  light  tap  on  the  nose, 
Barbet  lay  silently  in  arms  which  held  him  tightly. 
Then  Elise  fell  a-thinking  again,  while  Silvere,  ten- 
der as  a  lover,  attentive  as  a  faithful  friend,  sup- 
ported her.  He  was  happy  because  he  saw  that  her 
confidence  had  returned,  and  he  was  taking  her 
home. 

They  entered  the  channel,  slipping  homeward  with 
the  tide  as  it  came  into  the  bay.  Already  the  last 
gleams  of  twilight  had  faded  from  the  sea  and  left 
it  black,  for  the  night  was  without  moon  and  with- 
out stars.  The  breeze  had  not  changed  since  morn- 


HE  WAS   HAPPY,    BECAUSE   HE   SAW  THAT   HER  CONFIDENCE 
HAD   RETURNED. 


Chap.  IS. 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  163 

ing  and  Silvere  counted  less  on  it  than  on  the  tide. 
He  held  the  tiller  fast,  and  not  having  to  work  the 
boat  gave  himself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  mo- 
ment. 

He  started  suddenly  with  an  intuition  of  danger. 
Quick  !  This  is  no  time  for  dreams.  Night  is  the 
time  for  collisions.  Besides,  was  not  a  soul  in  his 
keeping  ?  Ought  he  not  to  watch  over  this  child 
whom  he  held  trembling  on  his  heart  ? 

"  Listen,  Elise.  I  am  sorry  to  break  in  on  your 
revery,  but  there  is  a  tug  behind  us  drawing  a  large 
boat.  I  think  it  is  a  schooner  from  the  orders  given 
out.  She  will  surely  run  us  down  if  we  do  not  light 
our  lanterns." 

He  was  right.  Hardly  had  the  lantern  glimmered 
at  the  mast-head  when  there  came  from  the  direction 
where  he  had  heard  the  noise  a  shout,  in  a  voice 
which  emotion  rendered  sweet  and  far  reaching: 

"Boat  ahoy!     Ahoy!" 

Silvere  steered  his  boat  one  side  to  avoid  a  colli- 
sion, and  when,  behind  the  tug,  there  passed  through 
the  darkness  a  large  schooner  with  lofty  masts,  the 
same  clear  voice  came  from  her  deck  : 

"  Silvere  Pollenne — Elise  He"nin — Ahoy  !  " 

"  Chretien  Loirat !  " 

"And  the  Danzels  and  old  Coulin  !" 

"  All  aboard  here  !  " 

Hurrah  !  They  were  all  there — the  four  men  who 
were  lost  from  the  Bon-Pecheur — Chretien,  the  two 
big  fellows,  and  the  old  sailor.  All  were  safe  again. 
Firtnin  no  doubt  would  soon  come  in  his  turn. 

Then,  in  an  outburst  of  happiness,  Elise  threw 


l64  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

herself  into  the  arms  of  her  lover,  who  pressed  her 
gently  to  his  breast. 

"  Silvere,  I  should  have  been  dead  if  you  had  not 
loved  me.  Now  we  will  be  married  and  together 
will  take  care  of  Mother  Pilote." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  four  sailors  of  the  Bon-Pecheur  could  not 
return  home  at  once.  They  were  on  a  schooner 
bound  to  Saint-Valery,  and  had  to  wait  until,  at 
dawn,  the  outgoing  tide  would  leave  the  bay  dry. 
But  when  Silvere  reached  home  that  night  he 
spread  the  news  of  their  return,  and  their  wives,  who 
had  waited  so  long,  were  only  too  happy  at  the 
thought  of  going  to  meet  them. 

All  had  donned  their  best  clothes,  and,  with 
white  bonnets  and  skirts  so  gay  that  they  seemed 
to  brighten  the  night,  were  ready  when,  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  sand  began  to  be  bare. 

Over  the  bay  it  was  still  night.  The  lanterns  on 
the  far-off  quay  of  Saint-Valery  were  their  only 
guides,  as,  in  the  darkness,  the  party  tramped  across 
the  rough  sands  and  splashed  through  the  pools. 

The  children,  sodden  with  sleep,  dragged  them- 
selves along,  and  the  poor  old  lame  grandmothers 
tried  to  keep  up  with  the  young  wives,  who  walked 
briskly  as  if  their  impatience  set  their  pace.  First 
came  the  wives  of  the  two  big  fellows.  Each  car- 
ried a  baby  in  her  arms,  while  other  children  held 
on  to  their  skirts.  Then,  in  a  family  group,  came 
the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  old  sailor.  Some, 
grown  up  and  married,  had  babies  of  their  own,  oth- 
ers were  still  only  boys  and  girls.  Last  of  all  came 

165 


1 66  A  FISHER  GIRL   Of  FRANCE. 

Chretien's  mother,  elderly  but  not  yet  old,  though 
already  uncertain  of  step. 

Good  Mother  Loirat  had  had  a  hard  fight  during 
the  seventeen  years  of  her  widowhood.  By  severe 
toil  she  had  won  a  livelihood  from  these  arid  sands, 
and  had  brought  up  four  sons.  Alas !  The  sea  had 
taken  three  of  them  in  one  day,  all  lost  with  Henin's 
boat.  And  now  that  the  youngest  was  old  enough 
to  earn  their  bread,  she  had  believed  that  he,  too, 
was  lost. 

Like  all  unfortunates  whom  trouble  has  followed, 
even  in  their  old  age,  she  had  long  since  given  up 
hope,  but  her  last  energies  had  been  awakened  by 
this  final  blow.  Her  sweet  Chretien,  blond  and 
bright-eyed,  was  the  one  of  her  four  sons  who  most 
closely  resembled  his  father. 

Father  Loirat  had  been  one  of  the  crew  of  a  lug- 
ger of  Hourdel.  It  fished  during  the  week  on  the 
coast,  but  returned  to  its  own  port,  every  Saturday, 
to  enjoy  the  Sunday's  rest.  His  wages  were  small, 
and  the  work  uncertain ;  but  if  he  made  a  poor  liv- 
ing, he  was  at  least  able  to  spend  one  day  a  week 
with  his  family. 

When  Mother  Loirat  thought  of  those  Sundays 
of  other  days,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Her  hus- 
band took  a  child  in  each  hand  and  she  a  third  in 
•her  arms,  and  they  walked  along  the  dunes  under 
the  open  sky,  or  they  watched  the  weather.  He 
lay  on  the  sands,  smoking  his  pipe  without  a 
thought.  She,  seated  beside  him,  hushed  the  baby 
to  sleep  on  her  knees.  They  sought  no  other  pleas- 
ure than  to  be  together,  and  good  Mother  Loirat, 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE,  167 

who  had  never  known  happier  days,  looked  back  on 
them  regretfully,  as  on  a  vision  of  the  past  full  of 
sweet  pictures  and  tender  recollections. 

One  Saturday  in  September,  after  a  heavy  equi- 
noctial tide,  her  husband  had  come  home  burning 
with  fever,  his  eyes  bright,  his  limbs  shaking. 
Twenty-four  hours  after  he  was  dead,  just  one 
month  before  his  fourth  child  was  born.  Loirat 
was  named  Chretien.  In  memory  of  him  the  new- 
born child  was  given  the  same  name,  and  as  he  grew 
up  he  more  and  more  recalled  his  father  by  his 
open  face  and  frank  nature. 

To  Mother  Loirat  he  was  always  her  little  lad, 
her  Chretien,  blond  and  frank-eyed.  Had  sixteen 
years  then  really  passed  since  he  was  born?  Was  it 
not  rather  yesterday  that,  during  the  day  tides,  she 
had  carried  him  in  her  basket  on  her  back,  and  set 
him  down  on  the  sand,  while  she  bent  over  busily 
gathering  shells?  When  she  came  back  to  him, 
weighed  down  by  her  load,  she  forgot  her  fatigue  in 
watching  his  sweet  little  smile. 

During  the  night  tides  she  left  him  sleeping  in 
her  cabin  with  his  elder  brothers,  all  young  to- 
gether. She  had  worked  fast  at  such  times,  so  as 
not  to  return  late  and  find  the  child  awake  and  cry- 
ing for  her. 

To  him,  the  same  as  to  others,  came  the  time  when 
he  was  old  enough  to  learn  a  trade.  So  he  had 
sailed  on  the  Bon-PhJieur.  And  one  night  they  had 
come  to  his  mother  to  tell  her  that  he  was  lost. 
She,  who  had  borne  without  complaining,  all  the 
caprices  of  fate — the  loss  of  her  husband  and  of  her 


168  A   FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

three  sons,  had  had  for  Chretien  her  first  outbreak 
of  indignation  and  revolt.  Had  she  not  more  than 
paid  her  debt,  and  was  it  not  now  for  others  to 
give  to  the  sea  the  tribute  which  she  demands,  as 
a  kind  of  revenge,  from  the  men  who  harass 
her? 

No,  she  would  not  believe  that  her  boy  was  dead, 
and  the  night  before  she  had  received  the  news  of 
his  return  as  quietly  as  if  it  had  been  a  thing  fore- 
seen. But  she  was  none  the  less  impatient.  Under 
her  furrowed  brow,  her  keen  eye  looked  through  the 
shadows  of  the  night  for  the  figure  she  was  awaiting. 

Dawn  was  coming,  but  the  distant  landmarks 
were  still  lost  in  a  heavy  obscurity.  A  strange 
atmosphere  came  off  the  sea.  They  could  hardly 
breathe.  Though  it  was  the  end  of  night  it  was  as 
warm  as  at  midday.  At  long  intervals,  in  the  south, 
beyond  the  steeple  of  Saint-Valery,  pale  lightnings 
furrowed  the  sky.  The  storm  seemed  at  times  as 
though  it  would  not  reach  them.  Under  the  op- 
pression of  the  weather  they  had  slackened  their 
pace,  and  at  the  first  gleam  of  day  were  only  at  the 
middle  of  the  bay.  A  stream,  broad  if  not  deep, 
which  they  could  not  pass  without  wading  up  to 
their  knees,  brought  them  to  a  halt.  The  wives  of 
the  two  big  sailors  had  already  tucked  up  their 
skirts  and  were  passing  the  children  across,  tossing 
them  from  hand  to  hand  and  carrying  the  larger  ones 
astride  their  backs. 

"Come,  good  Mother  Loirat,  it  is  your  turn." 

The  poor  thing  weighed  nothing  at  all.  She 
took  up  so  little  room  in  the  strong  arms  which  car- 


A   FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  169 

ried  her,  that  the  woman  could  not  help  saying 
kindly: 

"One  would  make  little  profit  off  of  you,  Mother 
Loirat.  You  have  not  more  than  twenty-five 
pounds  of  fat  to  sell." 

"Trouble  is  poor  nourishment,  my  poor  daughter. 
When  you  have  eaten  as  much  of  it  as  I,  you  will 
have  as  little  flesh  on  your  bones." 

But  there  was  no  time  to  lose  in  talk.  Across  the 
white  clouds  which  were  fast  increasing,  the  steeple 
of  the  church  of  Saint- Valery  stood  out  above  the 
dark  mass  of  houses  and  of  trees  over  which  it  tow- 
ered, while  at  the  foot  of  the  town  the  channel  of 
the  Somme  was  plainly  marked,  as  it  took  its  even 
course  seaward.  The  women  looked  about  them. 
They  could  see  nothing,  could  hear  none  of  those 
joyful  outbursts  which  ordinarily  announce  sailors' 
return. 

They  made  haste,  but  so  did  the  storm.  For- 
tunately it  was  kept  back  by  the  very  heaviness  of 
its  masses  of  clouds.  They  had  reached  the  banks 
of  the  Somme  when  the  first  lightning  flash  parted 
the  clouds  above  the  church  of  Saint-Valery,  a  bru- 
tal, blinding  flash,  followed  by  such  a  crash  of  thun- 
der that  the  frightened  children  hid  their  faces  in 
their  mothers'  skirts. 

With  one  voice  they  shouted  for  help.  Where 
was  the  ferryman?  Was  the  man  paid  by  the  town 
to  do  nothing,  to  sleep  comfortably  dry  while  trav- 
ellers were  drowned  in  the  storm? 

"It  is  no  new  thing  for  us  to  be  wet,"  said  the 
thin  voice  of  Mother  Loirat.  "Are  we  not  always 


I7°  A   FISHER  GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

drenched  by  the  tides?  You  are  too  fond  of  an 
easy  life.  Wait  a  little,  my  daughters,  you  will  find 
times  grow  harder  as  you  grow  older." 

These  reflections  did  not  stop  their  outcry.  The 
storm  enveloped  all  the  bay.  As  they  stood  on  the 
banks  of  the  stream,  too  deep  for  them  to  cross, 
exposed  to  its  fury,  the  group  of  crying  children 
and  clamoring  women  seemed,  with  their  angry 
voices,  Cries,  and  their  shrinking  attitudes  like  ship- 
wrecked seals. 

"Are  you  going  to  wait  there  until  you  are  dry?" 
cried,  from  behind,  a  cheerful  voice.  "You  must 
have  a  good  many  clothes  to  wash." 

"Whom  are  you  mocking,  you  great  sea-gull? 
Are  you  not  as  soaked  as  the  rest?  This  is  a 
nice  time  for  you  to  be  taking  your  Lise  for  a 
walk." 

When  Silvere  and  Elise  joined  the  group  of 
women  and  children  there  was  an  exchange  of  words, 
and  explanations  without  end. 

"What  brought  you  on  our  wet  tracks  with  your 
Lise?" 

Elise,  who  had  been  half-hidden  behind  Silvere's 
shoulder,  stepped  forward  to  reply.  The  night 
before,  on  her  return,  she  had  received  a  message, 
and  an  order  to  present  herself  at  the  Maritime 
Bureau  the  next  morning  at  six  o'clock,  on  a  matter 
referring  to  her  father.  Like  all  poor  people,  she 
had,  to  save  the  fare  of  the  boat  which  crossed  at 
full  tide,  preferred  to  walk,  taking  advantage  of  the 
ebb.  This  took  six  hours  from  her  sleep,  but  she. 


'ARE   YOU   GOING  TO   WAIT   THERE   UNTIL   YOU   ARE   DRY?" 


Chap.   19. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  I?I 

would  not  lose  in  a  twenty  minutes'  trip  a  whole 
day's  wages. 

All  this  time  nothing  appeared  on  the  other  bank. 
With  a  man's  authority,  Silvere  gave  his  advice. 
Since  no  one  came  to  help  them,  they  had  better 
follow  the  stream  to  the  place  where  the  boats  lay 
at  anchor.  They  would  be  less  wretched  there,  if 
they  could  not  find  any  one  to  ferry  them  across  to 
the  town. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  wharf  was  as  busy  a  scene  as  if  it  had  been 
midday.  Among  the  brigs  and  schooners  unloading 
wood  from  Norway,  the  women  were  not  long  in 
making  out  a  strange-looking  steamer.  She  did  not 
have  paddles  like  a  tug,  she  was  shorter  than  a 
despatch-boat,  and  not  so  sharp  as  a  corvette.  Her 
deck  was  loaded  with  rope  ladders,  with  long  tubes, 
and  strange  dresses.  On  her  davits  hung  boats 
such  as  were  ordinarily  found  only  on  larger  vessels, 
— a  big  ship's  boat,  and  a  steam-launch. 

"Look  there,  Elise,  this  surely  has  something  to 
do  with  your  father.  You  can  see  visors  such  as 
divers  wear." 

The  steamer  had  really  come  in  answer  to  Elise's 
petition,  which  had  reached  the  Maritime  Prefect  at 
Dunkirk  at  a  time  when  trials  of  diving  apparatus 
were  about  to  be  made.  They  wished  to  experi- 
ment at  different  depths,  to  investigate  the  charac- 
ter of  the  seas,  to  test  dangerous  whirlpools,  eddies, 
and  contrary  currents.  The  rough  waters  of  Berck 
and  Etaples  had  been  selected  for  the  experiment. 
The  search  which  Elise  asked  for  gave  an  oppor- 
tunity for  practice.  It  was  a  sort  of  practical 
problem,  the  solution  of  which  would  confirm  scien- 
tific theories.  The  steamer  had  then  naturally  been 
ordered  to  put  herself  in  communication  with  the 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  *73 

Bureau  at  Saint-Valery,  to  obtain  the  additional 
information  necessary  to  its  work. 

The  experiments  were  to  commence  at  the  next 
tide,  and  all  the  town  had  waked  up  well  before  its 
usual  hour.  At  the  quay,  on  the  river  bank,  on  the 
side  of  the  town  near  the  steamer,  which  was  already 
smoking,  groups  of  sailors  were  talking  excitedly. 
Among  them  the  women  speedily  recognized  their 
husbands,  more  interested  in  listening  than  in  seeing 
their  families.  They  hardly  turned  their  heads  at 
the  call  which  Silvere  threw  at  them  from  the  oppo- 
site pier. 

Nevertheless,  a  service  boat  came  alongside,  and 
a  few  moments  afterward  mothers,  wives,  and  chil- 
dren joined  the  men.  Their  embraces  were  short. 
Their  hearts  were  stirred  only  by  this  great  news: 
the  Vergoyer  was  to  be  explored. 

A  legend  had  grown  from  age  to  age  about  this 
gulf,  to  which  each  year  added  fresh  victims.  The 
names  of  those  who  had  been  lost  there  with  their 
boats  had  been  told  over  and  over  so  often  that  it 
had  come  to  be  believed  that,  from  generation  to 
generation,  since  the  ages,  enormous  riches  had  been 
piling  up  in  this  accursed  gulf.  Had  not,  only  two 
springs  before,  after  a  storm  from  the  north,  one  of 
those  storms  when  the  sea  cuts  away  the  sands,  a 
lugger  from  Cayeux,  buried  more  than  thirty  years 
before,  been  thrown  up  and  floated?  It  was  found 
aground  on  its  side,  as  strong  as  when  new.  Other 
wrecks  had  been  thrown  up  with  it,  and  with  them 
an  old  box  stuffed  with  pistoles,  which  had  made 
the  finder  rich. 


174  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

This  old  shipwrecked  lugger,  which  had  taken  a 
fresh  lease  of  life,  after  having  so  long  a  lapse,  had 
since  led  a  happy  existence.  She  had  all  the  bold- 
ness of  one  brought  back  to  life,  one  who  had  been 
in  the  realms  of  death,  and  thereafter  feared  noth- 
ing. The  captain  who  bought  her  faced  the  rough- 
est weather  in  her.  How  many  others  might,  like 
her,  be  recovered,  good  for  use  ?  There  was  no 
doubt  that  they  would  find  treasures  enough  to  fill 
the  pockets  of  all  the  coasters  of  the  bay,  and  every 
man  hoped  to  take  part  in  the  work. 

Perhaps  they  might  be  hired.  They  were  not 
familiar  with  the  work,  but  was  it  necessary  for  one 
to  have  studied  much  to  know  how  to  put  on  a 
visor  and  dig  in  the  wet  sand?  If  one  should  find  a 
box  of  gold  like  that  other,  one  would  be  rich 
enough  to  fit  out  a  big  fishing-boat  and  be  a  captain 
in  one's  turn.  And  it  is  much  pleasanter  to  be  a 
captain  than  a  hand. 

The  sailors  urged  one  another  to  go  to  the  officers 
of  the  steamer  and  find  out  if  work  was  offered,  and 
under  what  conditions  they  would  have  a  chance  to 
be  taken. 

They  did  not  stop  talking  for  an  instant,  and 
talking  is  dry  work,  so  they  soon  entered  the*  first 
open  tavern,  and  there  talked  on,  very  much  at  their 
ease,  before  their  full  bowls  of  hot  coffee.  The 
children  lay  asleep  on  the  benches  or  in  the  cor- 
ners. The  sun  had  risen  long  ago,  but  they  had 
not  yet  decided  who  should  go  and  ask  the 
officers. 

"Let's  find   Lise,"  cried    one  of  the   big   fellows, 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  175 

with  moist  lips  and  bright  eyes.  Three  cups  of 
coffee  had  rubbed  up  his  ideas. 

As  one  man  they  overturned  the  benches,  and, 
swallowing  at  a  gulp  what  was  left  in  their  cups, 
dashed  out  of  the  tavern  to  find  Elise. 

She  was  seated  at  the  door  of  the  Bureau,  on  the 
first  of  three  steps  where,  for  whole  days  during  the 
last  weeks,  she  had  waited  so  often  for  the  commis- 
saire  to  come  out.  But  where  yesterday  she  was  so 
unhappy,  she  was  to-day  full  of  new  hopes. 

The  wives  of  the  two  big  fellows  were  the  first  to 
arrive,  dragging  their  children  off  their  feet  beside 
them,  and  urging  their  husbands  to  ask  the^  young 
girl's  help.  They  shouted  and  gestured,  as  if  count- 
ing on  noise  to  prove  their  prior  rights.  While  all 
talked  wildly  around  Elise,  the  old  sailor,  who  had 
kept  back,  was  attacked  by  his  two  older  daughters. 

They  urged  that  he,  too,  should  try  to  get  work 
on  the  steamer;  if  there  were  treasures  to  be  found, 
it  would  be  too  stupid  to  leave  them  to  other  peo- 
ple. He  did  not  yield  easily,  and  the  nearer  the 
time  came  to  act  the  more  he  hesitated.  For  his 
part,  he  had  seen  enough  misery  on  top  of  the 
water,  without  going  underneath  in  search  of  it.  At 
his  age  he  had  no  taste  for  convict's  work. 

But  by  his  resistance  he  only  increased  the 
urgency  of  his  daughters,  who  grew  frantic  in  their 
attempts  to  convince  him.  Mother  Loirat  heard 
them.  She  was  so  angry  that  she  interposed: 

"The  old  man  is  right,  it  is  no  work  for  honest 
men.  Every  one  despises  miscreants  who  get  rich 
by  stealing  dead  men's  money." 


I76  A   FISHEK   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

Then  she  went  to  Elise : 

"Do  not  try  to  help  them,  my  child.  All  they 
want  is  to  steal  the  money  of  those  who  have  been 
shipwrecked." 

"Have  no  fear,  good  Mother  Loirat.  I  have  not 
given  the  money  a  thought.  All  I  want  is  to  free 
the  soul  of  my  father  and  your  three  sons.  You 
and  Chretien  will  go.  You  have  the  right  which 
your  tears  have  given  you." 

A  feeling  of  rage  and  disappointment  passed 
through  the  crowd  of  sailors,  furious  at  the  con- 
tempt which  Elise  showed  for  them.  They  began 
to  growl  out  threats. 

"Ahoy  there,  sailors,  clear  the  road  for  your  bet- 
ters. Ahoy!"  The  big  fellows  and  all  the  women 
turned  about  at  the  sharp,  impertinent  voice  which 
demanded  room  so  cavalierly. 

"A  ship's  figure-head  on  a  seal's  skeleton! 
Wretched  bundle!  He  shall  not  pass!  the  baboon! 
he  is  all  humps  and  no  hollows." 

The  little  clerk  struggled,  and  Elise  made  a  dash 
forward  to  clear  the  way  to  the  Bureau  for  him, 
when  suddenly  the  sailors  fell  back  of  themselves. 
Between  their  two  files,  drawn  back  respectfully, 
came  the  under-commissaire,  very  dignified  in  his 
silver-laced  hat.  He  recognized  Elise. 

"You  are  not  late ;  it  is  well.     Pass  in  before  me." 

Elise  hesitated.  She  looked  about  for  Silvere, 
who  had  gone  to  the  quay  to  make  inquiries.  She 
wanted  to  wait  for  him.  Could  she  dare  face  alone 
and  unaided  the  majesty  of  the  Bureau?  The  chief 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE..  1 77 

pushed  her  forward,  then  he  went  in  after  her,  and 
was  followed  by  the  little  clerk,  who  slammed  the 
door  furiously  in  the  faces  of  the  dumfounded 
sailors. 

The  commissaire  was  punctual.  The  last  stroke 
of  six  was  just  sounding. 

Some  minutes  after  the  door  opened.  The  clerk 
reappeared,  and  from  the  top  of  the  three  steps 
overlooked  the  crowd  of  sailors  arrogantly.  He 
held  a  roll  of  papers  in  his  hand  and  struck  an  atti- 
tude, as  if  about  to  read  something  important.  All 
eyes  grew  large,  all  mouths  opened  in  fixed  atten- 
tion. He  unrolled  his  paper  and  spread  it  out; 
when  he  saw  that  they  were  taken  in  by  his  trick  he 
put  it  back  in  his  pocket,  and  said  quietly: 

"Is  Silvere  Pollenne  among  you,  please?" 

All  faces  lengthened  with  disappointment.  Sil- 
vere had  just  that  moment  returned  from  the  quay. 
He  followed  the  clerk  into  the  office,  and  the  door 
slammed  furiously  a  second  time  before  the  dazed 
looks  of  the  sailors.  .'.«'" 

It  opened  again  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later.  The 
little  clerk  came  out,  entirely  hidden  behind  an 
enormous  register  which  aroused  fresh  hopes. 
They  needed  men  without  doubt.  They  would 
make  those  sign  the  book  whom  they  engaged. 

They  began  to  push  one  another  about,  to  be 
first.  There  was  a  delay  of  at  least  three  minutes, 
then  the  book  was  closed,  and  the  imperturbable  clerk 
shrilly,  but  just  loud  enough  to  be  heard,  called  out: 

"Mme.  Loirat  and  Chretien  Loirat,  will  you  have 


I?8  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

the  kindness  tc  answer?  You  are  requested  to 
enter." 

They  went  in  together,  and  the  door  closed  after 
them  with  two  slams  more  irritating  than  a  box  on 
the  ears. 

"He  despises  us,  does  he,  this  baboon?"  Sailors, 
children,  above  all  the  women,  picked  up  stones, 
resolved  to  punish  this  insolent  fellow  if  he  dared 
show  himself.  All  hands  were  raised,  when  they 
heard  the  noise  of  the  door  open.  They  dropped 
immediately. 

The  commissaire  came  out,  with  Elise  at  his  side ; 
behind  her  Silvere,  Chretien,  Mother  Loirat,  and 
finally  M.  Emile,  the  little  clerk.  He  moved  his 
hump  about  delightedly,  did  M.  Emile,  as  he  passed 
before  the  big  sailors,  proud  as  a  king's  fool  before 
the  courtiers.  He  had  the  body  of  a  child  and,  not- 
withstanding his  great  high,  shiny  silk  hat,  he  did 
not  come  up  to  the  sailors'  shoulders.  He  walked 
along  no  less  pompously  on  that  account,  bursting 
with  impertinent  pride. 

"There !  Pick  that  up  if  you  wish  to  move  your 
hump!" 

Two  blows  had  knocked  his  high  hat  into  the 
mud.  It  was  a  signal  for  the  sailors  to  stampede. 
They  set  off  in  haste,  while  M.  Emile  stood  still, 
gazing  after  his  injured  headpiece.  He  was  a  truly 
piteous  spectacle,  as  he  looked  at  it  all  crushed  out 
of  shape.  Tears  came  to  his  eyes,  which  became 
more  lack-lustre  than  ever.  Fortunately  Elise  saw 
him.  She  ran  and  picked  up  his  hat,  brushed  and 
set  it  right,  and  put  it  on. 


A   F1SUER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  i?9 

"I  wore  it  to  please  you,  Mile.  Elise.  These  rus- 
tics are  jealous  at  my  fine  appearance." 

"Come  quickly !  Your  chief  is  scowling.  I  trem- 
ble for  you." 

They  joined  the  under-commissaire,  who  turned 
his  head  quietly  and  said  shortly: 

"I  have  been  thinking,  M.  Emile,  and  I  have  no 
further  need  for  you.  Return  to  the  Bureau.  We 
will  talk  matters  over  to-night." 

"Oh,  sir,"  Elise  begged,  "forgive  him.  It  is  not 
his  fault.  It  is  his  misfortune." 

The  under-commissaire  did  not  appear  to  hear 
her.  He  continued  his  route  toward  the  quay 
where  the  steamer  was  anchored. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IT  was  seven  o'clock  by  the  sun  when  the  steamer 
came  into  the  waters  of  the  Vergoyer.  A  perfect 
fleet  followed  it.  They  had  come  from  Cayeux, 
Hourdel,  Berck,  Crotoy,  even  from  Treport,  and,  per- 
haps, Etaples.  Nowadays  news  travels  far  by  tele- 
graph, and,  thanks  to  the  connection  between  the 
Maritime  Bureaus,  word  was  scattered  far  and  wide 
that  they  were  going  to  explore  the  gulf ;  that  the 
living  were  to  see  with  their  own  eyes  the  abode  of 
the  dead. 

Like  so  many  birds  of  prey  after  a  wounded 
whale,  boats  of  all  sizes  and  all  rigs,  sloops,  barges, 
luggers,  flambarts,  followed  in  the  wake  of  the 
steamer.  They  were  all  after  plunder,  all  hoping  to 
get  rich  easily.  Divers  often  used  explosives  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea  to  break  up  wrecks,  and  then  the 
cttbris  floated.  If  they  came  across  any  such  wreck- 
age, it  might  be  very  valuable. 

Elise  was  on  the  bridge  of  the  steamer  with  the 
captain.  Having  told  how  the  night  before  she  and 
Silvere  had  discovered  the  lost  sailors'  gulf,  she  was 
directed  to  lay  their  course  to  their  float. 

The  captain,  a  handsome,  white-haired  old  man, 
passed  her  orders  to  the  man  at  the  wheel,  who 
steered  accordingly. 

Elise's  dress  made  a  strong'contrast  with  the  gold- 

180 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  181 

laced  suits  of  the  officers  who  surrounded  her,  but 
among  all  these  grave  faces  she  seemed  none  the 
less  dignified  nor  beautiful.  Her  white  neckerchief, 
on  her  dark  waist,  caught  the  sunlight,  as  if  to  em- 
phasize her  emotion,  and  her  face  was  full  of  sweet- 
ness. One  would  have  said  that  an  emanation  from 
her  soul  floated  about  her  like  an  aureole,  clothing 
her  in  all  the  grace  of  a  new  hope. 

The  steamer  went  its  way,  followed  by  the  fleet 
of  white,  brown,  gray,  and  red  sails.  It  seemed,  with 
this  army  which  followed  it,  as  if  advancing  to  cer- 
tain victory.  And  it  was  Elise  who  led  all  these 
people  to  the  conquest  of  the  Vergoyer. 

"  Stop  her  !  "  The  steamer  lay  motionless.  The 
large  launch  was  put  into  the  water,  then  the  other 
boats  and  the  long-boat,  in  which  Elise  took  her 
place  with  the  commissaire  and  the  principal  officers. 

"  Captain,  if  you  will  look  to  larboard,  you  can  see 
our  float." 

It  lay  two  cable-lengths  away,  and  became  at  once 
the  center  of  action.  The  captain  shouted  orders  in 
all  directions  through  his  trumpet,  and  each  boat 
took  its  position  for  work  around  the  frail  float, 
which,  tossed  roughly  by  the  waves,  seemed  a  prey 
hunted  down  by  a  ring  of  fishing-boats. 

The  launch  came  into  the  wind  close  abreast  of  it. 

Facing  her,  just  far  enough  away  not  to  interfere  in 
the  work,  lay  the  long-boat,  and  beside  it  another,  in 
which  were  Silvere,  Chretien,  and  Mother  Loirat. 
They  were  like  two  galleries  of  spectators — the  offi- 
cers sitting  in  judgment,  and  the  relatives  waiting 
the  revelations  of  this  strange  search. 


1 82  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

The  launch  and  the  large  boats  were  anchored. 
Further  away,  making  up  the  circle,  several  boats  lay 
on  their  oars,  ready  to  answer  any  sudden  call. 
After  the  soundings  had  been  verified  as  sixty 
fathoms,  the  divers  began  to  work.  Elise's  heart 
beat  wildly.  Over  the  side  of  the  launch  was  un- 
rolled into  the  sea  a  rope  ladder,  which  seemed  long 
enough  to  reach  the  center  of  the  earth.  So  many 
rounds  were  paid  out,  and  disappeared  under  the 
waves  in  endless  succession,  that  it  seemed  as  if  it? 
would  descend  into  eternity.  Still  twenty-five 
fathoms  and  one  hundred  steps  to  pay  out.  Never 
had  living  man  gone  to  such  depths  to  seaich  for 
the  dead.  Elise  shivered  to  her  very  marrow. 

The  unrolling  of  the  ladder  stopped.  A  man 
stepped  over  the  side  of  the  boat,  dressed  in  a  suit 
of  rubber  with  a  head-piece  having  squares  of  glass 
and  two  tubes  in  it.  He  had  more  than  an  inch  of 
lead  on  each  of  his  shoes.  It  was  to  help  him  de- 
scend into  the  abyss. 

Unfortunate  man !  He  seized  the  first  rounds 
and  touched  the  water.  He  began  to  descend — his 
feet,  his  legs,  the  lower  part  of  his  body  disappeared 
beneath  the  waves.  Misery!  All  the  stuff  of  his 
suit  puffed  up  on  his  shoulders  as  if  it  were  his  skin 
which  had  swollen.  For  one  instant  it  seemed  as  if 
he  stopped,  hesitating,  as  if  the  gulf  pushed  him 
back  and  would  none  of  him. 

"  Stop  him  !  "  cried  Elise.  "  I  wish  above  every- 
thing to  find  my  father,  but  it  is  not  right  to  make 
another  lose  his  life  on  my  account.  I  will  make 
the  descent.  Order  him  back,  captain." 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  183 

Wiiy  did  all  the  officers  hear  this  innocent 
demand  from  Elise  with  a  smile?  Was  it  wrong  to 
wish  to  snatch  an  innocent  man  from  an  abyss? 
She  had  seen  her  father  so  unhappy  in  those  depths. 
Was  it  necessary  for  others  to  lose  their  lives,  also, 
and  unnecessarily?  Barnabe,  too;  he  was  there 
since  yesterday. 

"  Captain,  I  beg  you,  order  the  man  back.  I  wish 
to  take  his  place." 

"No,  not  you,"  cried  Chretien,  "  I  will  go,  Ma'm- 
selle  Elise." 

But  all  these  offers  were  made  in  vain.  The 
diver  was  out  of  sight  ;  only  the  tremblings  of  the 
ladder,  and  the  paying  out  of  safety  cords  and  the 
tube,  showed  that  he  was  descending.  Bubbles  of 
air  broke  suddenly  by  the  hundred  about  them. 

"  Oh,  captain,  look !  it  is  just  like  a  drowning 
man." 

"  Be  quiet,"  cried  Mother  Loirat.  "  Let  the  man 
attend  to  his  business,  and  do  you  attend  to  yours. 
Women  should  not  interfere  with  men  who  are  at 
work." 

The  ladder  stopped  shaking,  the  paying  out 
ceased,  and  the  lieutenant  in  charge  in  the  launch 
spoke,  and  then  listened  at  the  end  of  one  of  the 
tubes.  He  gave  orders  to  the  four  sailors,  who  had 
been  steadily  working  a  pump.  Then  he  went  on 
listening  and  speaking,  stopping  at  intervals,  to  give 
out  orders.  By  his  direction  a  great  lantern  was 
lowered  by  a  tackle,  which  lighted  up  the  seas  like 
the  rays  of  the  sun.  At  the  same  time,  from  the 
boat's  side,  ropes  were  paid  out,  one  with  an  arm- 


1 84  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

ful  of  tubes,  picks,  pickaxes,  and  shovels  ;  the  other 
with  an  empty  sack,  which  came  up  less  than  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  afterward,  filled  with  sand — that 
sand  under  which  Elise's  father  was  lying. 

The  talking  through  the  tubes  began  again.  Soon 
a  second  tackle  was  rigged,  from  which  swung  an 
iron  cask,  which  was  lowered  into  the  sea.  Then  a 
new  pump  worked,  and  there  was  a  half  hour  during 
which  Elise  leaned  over  the  abyss,  exhausted  with 
watching  and  frightened  by  hopes  and  fears. 

At  a  signal  from  the  depths,  the  lieutenant  called  : 
"  Hoist  the  cask  !  " 

The  pulley  of  the  tackle  turned  many  times  under 
the  rope.  It  hardly  creaked.  It  seemed  to  be  lift- 
ing no  weight  at  all.  At  last  they  saw  the  cask 
below  the  surface,  with  a  shadow  so  long  that  it 
seemed  to  reach  the  bottom.  "  Halt!  "  The  cask 
is  at  the  surface. 

"  Look  after  the  wreckage  !  "  cried  the  captain 
through  his  trumpet,  and  two  little  boats  left  their 
station  in  the  circle  and  placed  themselves  one  on 
either  side  of  the  tackle. 

"  Hoist !  "  The  cask  rose,  with  the  water  stream- 
ing from  it  like  a  fountain.  Instantly  the  cordage 
bit  the  pulley,  which  began  to  creak  dolorously. 
"  Halt !  "  The  block  stopped.  It  was  held  rigidly 
by  the  great  weight  below  it. 

"  Make  the  wreckage  fast ! "     When  the  little  boats 
had  done  this,  the  cask  was  swung  inward  and  its 
burden  was  aboard  the  launch. 
"  What  is  it  ?  "  cried  the  captain. 
"  A  mizzen  sail — two  dead  bodies  in  it." 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  185 

The  officers  uncovered,  and  bowed  their  heads 
devoutly. 

"Alongside!"  ordered  the  captain,  as  he  put  on 
his  hat.  "  Alongside  !  " 

By  his  cheerful  voice  one  could  see  that  he  was 
well  satisfied. 

His  instructions  were  exact.  To  make  experi- 
ments with  the  improved  apparatus  at  depths  hith- 
erto unexplored,  to  study  the  comparative  influence 
of  pressure,  the  action  of  eddies  and  currents  on  the 
movements  of  divers,  to  find  whether  the  sand  was 
solid  or  movable,  to  establish,  in  a  word,  a  sort  of 
chart  for  the  use  of  submarine  investigations  in 
these  dangerous  waters  ;  such  had  been  the  cap- 
tain's task,  a  sort  of  preparatory  investigation,  with 
which  the  search  for  dead  bodies  had  only  been  in- 
directly connected. 

Happily  these  experiments  had  been  terminated 
sooner  than  he  had  hoped.  He  had  been  directed, 
if  it  were  advisable,  to  accede  to  Elise's  petition, 
but  he  had  not  thought  this  detail  of  much  impor- 
ance,  as  it  seemed  to  him  entirely  foreign  to  the 
scientific  side  of  the  matter.  But  the  results  had 
been  so  favorable  that,  in  less  than  an  hour  of  work, 
the  men  whom  he  had  been  ordered  to  look  for  had 
been  found. 

"  Well,  my  daughter,  are  you  satisfied?  You  see 
they  have  found  your  father.  Are  you  satisfied?  " 

"  It  is  not  my  father,  captain.  It  is  Barnab6  of 
Crotoy,  and  his  uncle  from  Saint-Valery.  They 
were  capsized  here  only  yesterday.  My  father  lies 
under  the  sand." 


1 86  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

The  old  officer  frowned.  So  much  the  worse. 
After  all,  drowned  men  are  all  alike.  They  had 
brought  back  two  bodies  from  a  depth  of  sixty 
fathoms.  The  question  was  as  satisfactorily  proved 
by  these  as  it  would  have  been  by  the  others. 
Was  one  to  dig  for  eight  days  in  one  place  when 
there  was  so  much  to  explore? 

Besides,  the  sky  made  him  anxious.  The  wind, 
which  for  three  days  had  been  uncertain,  and  which 
had  passed  from  north  to  south  by  way  of  east, 
showed  an  inclination  to  return  to  the  north  by 
way  of  west,  making  thus  a  complete  circuit.  It 
was  an  ominous  sign.  When  the  wind  amuses  itself, 
let  the  sailor  have  a  care. 

"  Lieutenant,  are  your  experiments  finished  ? 
Yes  ?  Order  the  man  up." 

Elise  rose  in  revolt. 

"  But  my  father,  captain.  Are  you  not  going  to 
look  for  him  ?  Now  that  the  man  is  on  the  bottom, 
it  will  be  very  little  trouble  to  dig  in  the  sand." 

"  Order  the  man  up  !  " 

"  Captain,  make  him  dig  instead.  If  he  comes 
up,  is  he  to  go  down  again  ?  " 

The  captain  snapped  his  fingers  impatiently.  He 
was  not  accustomed  to  resistance  to  his  authority, 
and  habits  of  discipline  had  given  him  that  short- 
ness of  manner  which  distinguishes  sailors  aboard 
ship. 

"  Be  quiet,  my  daughter.  You  did  not  wish  to 
let  him  go  down  a  moment  ago,  and  now  you  do 
not  wish  him  to  come  up.  Caprice  cannot  govern  a 
ship.  Lieutenant,  order  the  man  up." 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE,  187 

Elise  was  desperate.  All  her  strength  left  her 
suddenly.  She  sank  down,  with  clasped  hands  and 
uplifted  look.  Two  tears,  gliding  slowly  from  her 
soft,  black  eyes  stopped,  trembling,  on  her  lashes,  and, 
sparkling  in  the  sunlight,  seemed  to  witness  the 
depth  of  her  disappointment. 

She  had  hoped  so  much  from  this  visit  to  the 
Vergoyer.  She  would  accomplish  her  task.  She 
would  acquit  her  debt  to  her  father.  She  would 
gain  his  pardon  and  would  earn  her  reward,  she  would 
see  Firmin  again.  This  result,  so  long  delayed,  won 
by  so  many  efforts  and  sufferings,  was  denied  her;  it 
was  snatched  from  her  at  the  moment  when  she 
held  it,  as  it  were,  in  her  hand. 

"  Captain,  listen.  If  the  man  comes  up  I  wish  to 
go  down.  If  he  does  not  dare  to  dig,  I  will.  I  will 
dare  everything  for " 

Choked  by  a  sob,  she  could  not  finish.  The 
diver  had  returned,  and,  freed  from  his  head-piece, 
talked  freely  and  gave  in  a  strong  voice  the  details 
of  his  descent. 

At  that  depth  he  had  been  hardly  able  to  walk, 
even  with  his  pick  as  a  walking-stick.  He  had  been 
moved '  about  like  one  who  floats  aimlessly  and 
lightly,  his  equilibrium  lost,  fearing  constantly  that 
he  would  turn  feet  upward.  He  had  been  obliged 
to  make  the  shovel  fast  to  the  lower  part  of  one  leg 
and  the  pickaxe  to  the  other,  and  drag  them  behind 
him  like  two  anchors,  to  keep  a  foothold  on  the 
sand.  It  was  only  in  this  way  that  he  had  managed 
to  walk.  He  had  found  the  wreck  near  him.  It 
was  there  by  itself.  He  had  seen  another,  without 


l88  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

doubt  a  vessel's  hull,  a  little  further  off,  but  he  had 
not  dared  to  go  so  far.  At  sixty  fathoms  one  could 
not  count  on  his  equilibrium. 

Besides  these  two  wrecks  there  was  nothing  but 
sand.  The  bottom  spread  out  like  a  flat  valley  at 
the  foot  of  a  mountain-peak.  The  smooth  surface 
was  raised  in  places  by  little  mounds,  on  which  the 
sand  seemed  firmer  than  it  was  around  them.  Just 
where  he  had  descended,  at  the  place  marked  by 
the  anchor  which  Silvere  had  dropped  the  plight 
before,  the  man  had  come  on  one  of  these  mounds 
which  seemed  to  him  higher  than  the  others.  He 
had  dug  a  yard  downward  without  discovering  any- 
thing, but  had  not  been  able  to  go  further  because 
the  wet  sand  filled  the  hole  as  fast  as  he  dug. 

"  You  hear  what  he  says,"  said  the  captain,  turn- 
ing toward  Elise.  "  We  are  not  equipped  for  this 
kind  of  work.  Excavators  are  needed.  I  will 
speak  of  it  in  my  report  to  the  Minister." 

"  The    Minister  is   a  long  way   off,"  said   Elise, 
"and  we  are  here.     Let  me  go  down." 

"  Say  no  more,"  said  the  captain  rudely.  "  Haul 
the  ladder  aboard." 

"  No,"  cried  Elise,  exasperated.  "  If  you  take  up 
the  ladder,  I  will  throw  myself  overboard.  It  is  too 
cowardly  to  have  come  here  to  investigate,  and  go 
away  without  finding  anything." 

"  We  have  brought  up  two  bodies." 

"  Neither  of  them  is  my  father.  You  were  ordered 
hereto  search  for  him.  If  you  abandon  the  work, 
at  least  let  me  go  on  with  it.  You  have  two  suits. 
Silvere  will  go  down  with  me." 


A    FISHER    GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  189 

"  Let  me  take  your  place,  Ma'mselle  Elise,"  cried 
Chretien.  "  I  should  always  feel  ashamed  if  you 
were  lost.  If  I  reach  the  bottom  I  will  dig  hard, 
remembering  that  I  am  doing  it  to  please  you." 

"  Lise  is  right,"  added  Mother  Loirat,  "  people 
who  are  in  trouble  must  help  themselves." 

The  captain,  giddy  at  all  these  demands,  stamped 
the  deck  impatiently. 

"  Let  them  have  their  way.  Bring  the  small  boat 
alongside."  It  took  on  board  Elise,  Silvere,  and 
Chretien,  and  carried  them  to  the  launch. 

"The  girl  goes  first." 

"  No  !  let  me,"  said  the  two  men,  with  one  voice, 
"  me — me." 

"  The  girl  first.     Hurry,  lieutenant." 

There  was  no  answer  possible.  The  captain  had 
his  reasons  for  not  yielding.  Wishing  to  put  an 
end,  as  quickly  as  possible,  to  the  claims  of  these 
rustics,  he  sent  Elise  first,  with  the  secret  hope  that 
the  deadening  effect  of  the  compressed  air  would 
bring  a  girl  to  terms  more  quickly  than  men  used 
to  painful  exposures.  In  this  way,  one  trip  alone 
would  suffice  to  discourage  all  these  would-be 
divers. 

Elise  slipped  off  her  dress,  wrapping  her  skirt 
about  each  knee,  and  put  on  the  rubber  suit,  except 
the  head-piece.  Her  face,  with  its  fine  profile,  stood 
out  haughtily  above  this  strange  armour,  and  showed 
not  a  tremor  when  the  sailor  came  to  put  on  the 
visor  with  its  four  squares  of  glass. 

The  head-piece  was  screwed  down  on  its  frame. 
How  it  weighed  on  her  shoulders  !  The  heavy  folds 


19°  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

of  the  collar  and  sleeves  prevented  her  from  moving 
her  arms.  Her  feet  can  never  lift  those  leaden 
soles. 

"  Are  you  ready  to  descend  ?" 

Who  was  speaking  to  her?  Elise  has  lost  her  in- 
dividuality. She  is  nothing  but  an  inert  will,  the 
soul  of  a  machine.  Without  stopping  to  think,  she 
finds  herself  on  the  ladder,  drawn  down  by  the  heavy 
weights. 

Who  holds  up  her  feet?  There  is  no  longer  any 
weight  in  their  soles.  Something  supports  them. 
When  will  she  enter  the  water?  She  will  know,  by 
its  chill,  when  she  touches  it.  No.  She  is  under 
the  water.  Through  the  largest  light  in  her  visor 
she  sees  the  waves  about  her.  She  is  giddy.  Who 
whistled  in  her  ears  ?  It  sounded  like  the  wind  ! 

"  Open  the  valve  of  the  head-piece." 

No  matter  who  it  is  who  orders  it,  she  obeys  un- 
consciously. Misery!  What  a  fright  she  has! 
There  is  a  deafening  rumble.  Have  the  tubes  burst, 
and  is  the  water  coming  in  upon  her?  She  cannot 
think,  her  temples  throb,  there  is  a  band  about  her 
forehead.  Her  skin  is  burning,  her  whole  face  feels 
pin-pricked !  There  are  noises  and  sharp  whistles 
in  her  ears !  She  gasps  and  strangles. 

"  Do  you  want  to  come  up?  Shall  you  be  able 
to  go  to  the  bottom  ?  You  are  not  a  quarter  of  the 
way  yet." 

What  will  she  find  at  the  end  of  this  endless  lad- 
der? Elise  no  longer  feels  what  she  touches;  nei- 
ther the  rounds  of  the  ladder  in  her  hands,  nor  the 
head-piece  on  her  shoulders. 


A   FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  19* 

"Do  you  not  want  to  come  back?  Open  the 
valve  of  the  head-piece.  Have  no  fear  of  the  noise. 
It  is  only  the  air  escaping." 

She  was  careful  to  obey.  She  was  conscious  of 
nothing,  neither  of  him  who  spoke,  nor  of  what,  nor 
how.  But  to  hear  another's  voice  was  to  be  not  alone, 
and  without  that  companionship  would  she  have 
had  the  boldness  to  go  on  into  these  glassy  depths? 
What  a  vivid  light  this  was  about  her,  and  what 
strange  forms  whisked  suddenly  by  her! 

She  wished  the  voice  would  speak  again.  She 
had  neither  body  nor  weight.  She  seemed  to  float 
as  a  bird  in  air.  There  was  nothing  above  her  head, 
nothing  under  her  feet.  She  felt  nothing  except 
shooting  pains  in  her  head.  She  kept  on  descend- 
ing mechanically  without  knowing  where  it  would 
bring  her,  or  that  the  descent  would  ever  end. 

"  Open  the  valve !  " 

At  this  command  Elise  woke  suddenly  from  her 
stupor.  She  felt  the  rounds  of  the  ladder  which  she 
held  tightly.  She  was  herself  again.  The  pain  in 
her  head  ceased. 

"Attention  !  You  are  just  reaching  the  bottom." 
It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  come  to  a  land  of 
sunlight.  What  dazzling  gleams  came  through  the 
lights  of  her  visor.  She  had  to  close  her  eyes.  A 
great  lantern  hung  close  to  her,  as  powerful  as  that 
of  a  light-house.  The  depths  shone  joyously.  How 
delighted  she  was  after  the  night,  the  interminable 
night,  to  see  clearly  again.  She  regained  her  con- 
fidence when  she  found  herself  once  more  on  her 


I92  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

feet,  with  her  shadow;  her  own  familiar  shadow,  on 
which  one  depends  as  if  it  were  something  tangible. 

How  brightly  the  sand  sparkled.  The  dead,  \vhose 
cold  remains  it  keeps,  ought  to  be  charmed  with 
these  bright  gleams  which  presage  their  coming  re- 
turn to  the  light  of  day.  Doubtless  her  father  has 
felt  the  soft  warmth  of  its  rays,  and  has  started  in 
his  wet  prison.  He  is  here,  under  these  sands  which 
for  three  months  have  served  him  as  a  winding- 
sheet,  while  he  awaits  his  final  burial. 

But  is  it  not  impious  to  tramp  about  these  sands 
which  cover  the  dead  ?  Is  it  not  like  walking  over 
graves? 

On  her  knees,  with  joined  hands,  Elise,  in  a  pious 
revery,  hears  nothing ;  not  the  distant  rumblings 
which  re-echo  from  space  to  space  in  these  limitless 
depths,  nor  the  voice  which  calls  her: 

44  Remount !  A  storm  is  coming.  The  captain 
gives  you  only  five  minutes.  We  are  going  to  sail." 

She  hears  nothing,  for  she  is  praying.  All  her 
thoughts  are  with  him  whom  she  hopes  soon  to 
find. 

"  Father,  if  I  have  not  looked  for  you  earlier,  it  is 
not  because  I  have  failed  in  respect  or  loving  mem- 
ories. I  remember,  when  a  little  thing  on  your 
knees,  your  laughing  talk  and  speaking  eyes.  I 
have  not  forgotten  them ;  nor  how  you  taught 
Firmin  and  me,  in  your  boat.  You  had  an  angry 
voice,  but  a  warm  heart." 

"  Are  you  not  coming  back,  then  ?  The  captain 
will  not  wait." 

"  Father,  when  you  left  us,  I  kept  your  memory  in 


"  FATHER,    IF  YOU   WILL   HELP,    I   WILL   FIND   YOU." 


Chap.  21. 


A    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  193 

my    heart ;    since    you    have  come  back    to    me   in 
visions,  I  have  suffered  with  you." 

"  Make   haste.      We   are  taking   up   the  anchor. 
The  captain  is  just  the  man  to  go  without  you." 
"  Father,  if  you  will  help,  I  will  find  you—- 
Is it  the  force  of  the  current  which  lifts  her?    She 
clings  to  the  sand,  digs  her  soles  into  it,  clutches  it 
with  her  hands.     It  is  night  again.    The  lantern  has 
disappeared.     Without  a  light  how  can  she  see  to 
dig  the  sands,  how  be  courageous  enough  to  wait  in 
this  darkness  in  the  midst  of  the  frightful  noise  of 
the  waves  ? 

She  cannot  hear  the  voice  now.  She  calls.  She 
is  alone  in  this  abyss  of  water.  Yet  ought  she  to 
leave  her  father,  to  tear  herself  away  at  the  moment 
when  she  is  about  to  find  him  ?  Where  is  the  lad- 
der? She  tries  to  seize  it,  her  hands  clutch  only  the 
void.  What  agitations  stirthis  under  ocean  !  Every- 
thing is  whirling  in  these  infernal  depths.  The 
surges  break  on  the  sand  with  terrible  crashings,  they 
tear  it  up,  dig  into  it,  and  toss  it  about  pitilessly. 
Poor  father ! 

Elise  is  overturned.  Rolled  head  over  heels, 
stricken  by  this  great  upheaval,  she  loses  conscious- 
ness, while  the  wild  eddies  spin  her  around  and 
around. 

The  launch  had  been  made  fast  on  the  deck  of  the 
steamer,  which  was  running  at  full  speed.  Elise  was 
not  yet  freed  from  the  diver's  dress.  She  had  a  rush 
of  blood  to  the  head  which  stupefied,  blinded,  and 


194  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

deafened  her,  when  the  visor  was  removed  and  she 
breathed  the  fresh  air.  When  at  last  she  came  to 
herself  she  saw  Silvere  and  Chretien  bending  anx- 
iously over  her,  while  the  lieutenant  was  saying : 

"  What  were  you  thinking  of  to  stay  below  in  the 
face  of  such  a  storm  ?  Were  you  trying  to  play  at 
obstinacy  with  the  captain  ?  He  had  given  the  order 
to  cut  the  cord  and  tubes.  Fortunately  for  you,  the 
safety  rope  was  strong." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

NEVER  had  such  a  following  sea  driven  a  boat  as 
that  which,  in  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  was 
hurrying  the  steamer  to  Treport.  It  was  a  real 
gale  from  the  north. 

The  sea  was  in  the  wildest  commotion,  the  waves 
leaping,  plunging,  and  breaking  madly  upon  one 
another.  Entering  the  channel  of  Saint-Valery 
was  not  to  be  thought  of.  In  heavy  weather  the 
Bay  of  Somme  is  impracticable.  They  had,  there- 
fore, laid  their  course  direct  to  Treport. 

They  left  behind  them,  as  they  flew  on,  many 
small  craft  which  could  hardly  hope  to  outlive  the 
gale.  All  those  who  had  followed  the  steamer  to 
the  Vergoyer  had  fled,  like  sea-gulls  before  a  storm, 
at  the  first  sign  of  danger  from  the  north.  Were 
they  all  safely  in  port  that  night  ? 

Built  for  rough  weather,  the  steamer,  in  spite  of 
the  tempest,  soon  reached  the  quay  at  Treport. 
The  moment  they  landed  Elise,  Silvere,  Chretien, 
and  Mother  Loirat  hurried  to  the  point  at  the  foot 
of  the  light-house,  to  watch  other  boats  enter.  But 
not  one  was  to  be  seen  on  the  horizon.  Captains 
choose  to  run  before  the  wind,  rather  than  to  risk 
going  ashore  and  breaking  up.  A  boat  cannot 
avoid  a  bar  or  a  point  as  she  would,  and  even  if  she 
enters  the  harbor  she  has  still  the  piers  to  fear. 

195 


I96  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

She  can  dash  herself  to  pieces  on  these  as  easily  as 
a  dish  on  a  tavern  floor. 

But  in  the  north-east,  there  was  a  rag  of  sail 
lashed  by  the  mad  winds.  They  could  see  it  for  an 
instant,  then  it  would  disappear.  Just  as  they  had 
made  up  their  minds  that  it  must  have  gone  down, 
it  would  reappear.  Elise  watched  it  with  greater 
uneasiness  than  the  others,  for  she  herself,  in  a 
storm  as  wild  as  this,  had  realized  how  strong  the 
sea  is  and  how  weak  a  boat. 

"  Silvere,  a  seaman's  is  a  risky  trade.  But  how 
the  sea  speaks  to  the  soul.  It  is  more  beautiful 
than  ev^r  when  it  is  so  angry.  I  am  more  afraid  of 
it  here  than  if  I  were  righting  it.  One  fears  less 
for  those  exposed  to  it,  if  one  is  working  with 
them." 

A  sailor  interrupted  her.  He  had  orders  to 
bring  Elise  to  the  steamer,  where  the  officials  were 
waiting  to  see  her. 

Never  had  she  had  such  a  joyful  surprise.  As  he 
had  promised  Florimond,  the  under-commissaire  of 
Treport  had  made  all  enquiries  possible  about 
Firmin.  Finding  his  colleague  from  Saint-Valery 
on  board  the  steamer,  he  had  communicated  to  him 
the  results  which  he  had  just  learned. 

Firmin  had  been  met  drifting  in  the  flambarfs 
boat,  nearly  dying.  He  had  been  two  days  with- 
out food.  It  was  a  government  cruiser  that  had 
picked  him  up.  For  ten  days  he  had  been  in  the 
delirium  of  fever,  but  with  good  care  he  had  got 
well  again,  and  was  now  no  longer  a  ship's  boy,  but 
as  hardy  as  an  able  seaman. 


A   FISHER  GIRI.   OF  FRANCE.  197 

He  lived  in  the  top,  running  along  the  yards  as 
another  man  would  walk  the  deck.  He  was  always 
the  first  in  places  of  danger,  in  furling  the  sails  or 
taking  a  reef,  always  on  the  lookout  to  be  first  to 
answer  the  boatswain's  whistle.  The  letter  which 
carried  the  news  of  his  safety  gave  these  details  of 
his  good  conduct  aboard. 

Firmin  had  at  last  realized  his  ambition.  With 
the  innocence  of  a  child  he  had  always  believed 
that  everybody  must  be  rich  on  one  of  these  great 
ships,  which  he  had  sometimes  seen  when  at  sea 
with  their  shining  decks  and  their  well-polished 
brasses.  He  had  promised  himself  to  some  day  try 
his  fortune.  Elise  should  not  have  to  work  long 
for  him.  He  would  engage  on  one  of  these  big 
ships,  where  he  would  become  a  real  sailor,  and  have 
a  coat  with  gold  buttons  for  holidays.  So  that 
fortune,  in  putting  him  on  the  corvette,  served  his 
turn  exactly. 

Elise  recognized  Firmin  in  all  that  the  commis- 
saire  said.  He  was  always  so  ready,  so  anxious  for 
rough  experiences  and  fresh  opportunities. 

"  Where  is  he,  sir?  Can  I  go  to  him?  Silvere 
will  go  with  me." 

But  Firmin  was  far  away.  The  news  had  come 
from  Iceland.  The  corvette  had  anchored  for  some 
weeks  in  the  roadstead  of  Reikjavik,  and  had  sent 
her  despatches  by  some  vessel  leaving  for  Europe. 

Iceland  !  That  island  without  trees  and  roads, 
where  the  fogs  are  as  thick  in  the  valleys  as  lakes ; 
where  the  horses  have  to  brush  aside  the  snow  to 
get  at  the  grass;  where  the  people  live  like  the 


I98  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

dead,  in  houses  dug  in  the  ground.  Her  father  had 
visited  Iceland  in  old  times,  when  he  was  in  the 
navy.  He  had  accompanied  one  of  the  officers  far 
inland  to  see  the  snow-clad  mountains,  which  vomit 
fire  and  sulphur.  He  had  nearly  lost  his  life,  but 
Elise  was  not  anxious,  for  all  that.  Firmin  was 
better  at  facing  dangers  than  her  father.  She  had 
no  fears  for  him  on  that  score. 

From  Iceland,  where  she  had  gone  to  look  after 
the  cod-fishers,  the  corvette  was  to  return  to  the 
Scotch  seas  to  protect  the  herring  fishers.  She 
would  not,  therefore,  return  home  before  the  end  of 
the  autumn  campaign,  in  the  first  days  of  Decem- 
ber. 

"Then  I  will  go  to  meet  him,"  said  Elise.  "I 
have  no  right  to  be  unhappy,  since  the  lad  has 
found  the  place  he  likes.  He  will  make  a  fine 
sailor." 

She  seemed  so  sweet  and  gentle  that  the  com- 
missaire  was  quite  won  over.  He  promised  to  find 
the  place  where  the  steamer  would  make  her  head- 
quarters, and  to  help  Elise  in  all  possible  ways. 

"  Thanks,  sir.  You  are  very  kind.  The  boy  is 
high-spirited,  he  is  worth  helping." 

Yes,  soon  she  would  have  her  Firmin  in  her  arms, 
pressed  to  her  heart  as  of  old.  She  would  see  him 
again,  only  handsomer  and  stronger.  To  go  to  him 
she  would  engage  herself  with  Silvere  on  big  Poi- 
devin's  boat.  She  would  ask  no  wages  but  her  food. 
Why  should  he  not  take  her,  for  she  was  strong  and 
had  no  longer  the  reputation  of  bringing  bad  luck. 
But  some  one  was  calling  her. 


A    FISHER    GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  1 99 

From  the  pier  Chretien  was  shouting  at  the  top 
of  his  voice : 

"  Ma'mselle  Elise,  Ma'mselle  Elise  !  The  little 
sail  is  coming  in.  She  is  a  lugger  from  Cayeux. 
She  has  the  bodies  of  my  three  brothers.  Mother 
Loirat  has  fainted  from  terror !  " 

And  overcome  with  excitement,  he  kept  on  re- 
peating, as  he  caught  his  breath  :  "  Ma'mselle  Elise, 
Ma'mselle  Elise!  " 

"  I  am  coming,  Chretien.  Give  me  a  moment  to 
tell  the  commissaire." 

Then  turning  toward  Silvere,  Elise  took  his  arm. 

"  Come  with  me.  My  courage  never  fails  when  I 
am  near  you." 

The  lugger  was  anchored  in  the  harbor,  her  bow 
standing  out  of  the  water,  her  taffrail  nearly  on  a 
level  with  it.  When  they  had  all  reached  her,  the 
two  commissaires,  Elise,  Chretien,  Silvere,  and 
others,  besides  a  number  of  little  boats  at  the 
lugger's  stern,  set  to  work  to  lift  something  lashed 
there  which  hung  deep  in  the  water. 

Ho!  hiss!  It  is  heavy.  Have  a  care.  The 
boats  will  be  dragged  under.  Halt !  Three  pairs 
of  great  boots  come  to  the  surface. 

"  Mother  Loirat,  they  are  your  sons.  You  must 
calm  yourself  and  stand,  out  of  respect  to  them." 

On  her  knees  beside  the  old  woman,  Elise  cried  to 
her: 

"  Are  you  not  happy  ?  Your  sons'  troubles  are 
over  forever." 

The  old  woman  opened  her  eyes  at  last,  at  the 


200  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

moment  when  the  bodies  of  her  three  sons  were 
laid  on  the  pier.  Death  had  not  dared  to  separate 
them.  They  were  together,  and  in  that  last  em- 
brace in  which  they  had  entered  into  the  darkness 
of  the  abyss.  A  sail,  which  chance  had  wrapped 
about  them,  had  protected  them  and  served  as  a 
winding-sheet,  the  true  winding-sheet  of  a  sailor. 
The  furious  waves  had  respected  their  last  embrace. 
They  had  been  found  by  the  lugger  in  the  very 
height  of  the  storm,  and  she  had  made  fast  to  them. 
Running  before  the  wind  at  random,  not  knowing 
whether  to  take  the  open  sea  or  try  for  port,  she  had 
come  upon  this  melancholy  wreckage,  which  seemed 
to  her  crew  like  a  presage  of  their  own  death. 
They  had  tried  to  avoid  it,  not  wishing  to  embarrass 
themselves  with  a  dead  weight,  but  it  would  not 
be  left.  It  followed  after  in  her  wake,  it  pursued 
her,  and  through  superstitious  fears  they  had  de- 
cided to  make  it  fast.  It  had  thus  been  towed  in 
spite  of  the  storm,  and  it  was  this  which  had  saved 
them.  For  it  had  borne  the  brunt  of  the  waves,  and 
had  made  smoother  seas  about  them,  by  acting  as  a 
breakwater.  Like  a  rudder  it  had  kept  the  boat  to 
the  wind,  and,  thanks  to  it,  she  had  made  port, 
while  many  of  her  fellows  would  never  enter  it 
again. 

The  three  brothers  were  laid  on  the  quay.     Their 
faces  were  calm  and  unchanged. 

"  My  poor  lads  ! — my  sons  !  " 

And  the  old  woman  fainted  again   in  the  arms  of 
Elise. 

"  Listen,  dear  Mother   Loirat.     Rouse  yourself. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  20 1 

Your  sons  are  at  rest.  My  father  will  find  rest  as 
well.  The  time  of  his  return  has  come.  He  will 
have  his  money  in  his  pocket — you  know  the  pocket 
of  his  woollen  jersey — in  his  sealskin  purse.  He  was 
so  proud  when  he  brought  it  home  full.  It  made 
a  great  lump  on  his  chest,  just  over  his  heart.  He 
will  come  back  rich,  good  Mother  Loirat,  and  I  will 
give  you  all  the  money.  You  shall  have  no  more 
trouble." 

The  old  woman  did  not  hear  her.  She  did  not 
recover  consciousness  until  night,  in  a  bed  in  the 
tavern,  with  Elise  and  Chretien  on  either  side  of  her. 
Silvere  was  on  guard  beside  the  three  bodies,  in  a 
shed  belonging  to  the  coast  guard,  waiting  the  end 
of  the  official  formalities.  He  passed  the  last  hours 
of  the  day  and  all  night  in  this  mournful  watch, 
where,  to  distract  his  gloomy  thoughts,  he  had  the 
whistling  of  the  wind  and  the  angry  roaring  of  the 
sea.  At  last,  when  the  first  gleams  of  dawn  came, 
the  storm  passed  away. 

It  passed,  but  it  had  been  so  violent,  and  had 
so  torn  up  the  sands,  that  it  had  thrown  ashore  the 
bodies  of  all  who  lay  in  the  lost  sailors'  gulf. 

Henin  was  found  as  if  asleep  in  his  boat,  which 
seemed  as  if  it  remembered  the  way  home.  The 
sea  gave  him  back  as  it  had  taken  him,  stretched  in 
his  berth,  his  lips  smiling,  his  eyes  closed.  Around 
him  in  the  forecastle,  under  the  watery  covering 
which  had  protected  them  from  the  teeth  of  time, 
slept  his  companions,  whom  death  had  surprised  in 
sleep. 


202  A    FISHER    GIRI.    OF  FRANCE. 

The  boat  was  as  uninjured  as  they  whom  it  had 
protected.  And  when  the  gale  from  the  north  set 
her  free,  she  was  ready  to  take  up  work  as  boldly  as 
ever. 

Thrown  up  from  the  sands,  and  driven  forward 
by  the  waves,  she  had  been  caught  in  the  current 
of  the  bay,  and,  pushed  on  by  blow  after  blow,  had 
gone  ashore  at  almost  the  spot  on  the  beach  where, 
some  days  before,  Elise  had  tried  to  die,  invoking 
her  father's  memory.  The  father  had  come  in 
answer  to  his  daughter's  call. 

She  was  not  there  to  receive  him,  but  Barbet, 
whom  his  mistress  had  left  in  the  village,  wandering 
along  the  dunes,  welcomed  with  joyous  cries  the 
return  of  the  old  man,  who  brought  back  with  him 
the  peace  and  happiness  of  his  daughter. 

All  came  ashore  one  after  the  other :  friend 
Joseph,  and  Am£d£e,  and  many  others  who  had 
gone  so  long  that  they  had  been  forgotten.  They 
were  found  all  along  the  coast  between  Calais  and 
Fecamp. 

This  gale  has  never  been  forgotten.  In  all  the 
country  around  it  is  known  as  "  The  Martyrs' 
Storm." 

Three  days  passed  The  storm  had  cleared  away 
entirely.  The  wind  was  steady  in  the  north-east,  be- 
tokening settled  weather.  The  sea  reflected  the 
tender  blue  of  the  sky,  and  all  the  bay  was  bright 
with  changing  hues,  while  across  it  stood  out  the 
sombre  mass  of  Saint-Valery.  Above  the  dunes,  in 
soft  lines,  a  few  white  clouds  raced  along,  the  last 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  203 

of  their  kind;  as  if  to  show  that  the  heavens  were 
being  swept  clean  by  the  winds. 

Nothing  could  equal  the  brightness  of  this  Au- 
gust morning.  On  the  road  that  climbed  the  dune, 
a  green  triumphal  arch  was  raised,  for  the  village  was 
celebrating  the  liberation  of  her  children. 

All  the  dead  whom  the  sea  had  given  up  were 
laid  together  in  the  little  low  room  of  the  mairie. 
Twenty-three  !  Brought  together  again,  some  by 
boats,  others  in  carts,  according  to  where  they  had 
been  found. 

Twenty-three  !  Not  one  was  missing  at  the  roll- 
call,  and  they  had  had  to  wait  for  the  last — the  lame 
man,  who,  being  the  lightest,  had  been  carried  fur- 
thest by  the  waves. 

In  the  memory  of  the  old  men  there  had  never 
been  so  joyful  a  holiday  in  the  village.  The  mairie 
was  adorned  with  flags  and  garlands  of  flowers, 
while  the  houses  were  dressed  in  white  stuff,  and 
with  bouquets.  Here  and  there  beacons,  adorned 
with  branches,  marked  the  route  of  the  proces- 
sion. 

Twenty-three  coffins.  All  the  strong  men  of  the 
place  were  needed  to  carry  them.  With  its  white 
drapings  and  crowns  of  radiant  flowers,  one  might 
have  truly  called  it  a  triumphal  procession.  The 
first  place  was  given  to  H£nin,  who  was  wrapped  in 
a  flag.  Two  lines  of  young  girls,  in  long  white  veils, 
with  baskets  on  their  arms,  scattered  roses  in  the 
way. 

EHse  and  Barbet  walked  first,  in  advance  of  the 
mayor.  Preceding  by  a  few  steps  the  long  proces- 


204  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

sion   of  villagers,  they  seemed  as  if  guiding   this 
happy  band  of  mourners. 

The  great  gate  of  the  cemetery,  with  a  cross 
raised  on  either  side,  stood  open  to  receive  them, 
and  when  the  August  sun,  high  overhead,  marked 
midday,  the  hour  of  rest,  the  twenty-three  were  laid 
to  sleep  in  consecrated  ground. 

That  night,  as  she  entered  her  cabin  with  Barbet, 
Elise  had  no  fears  of  seeing  her  father's  ghost. 
Surely  he  was  at  peace,  lying  beside  her  mother  in 
the  corner  of  the  graveyard.  A  new  cross  was  over 
him,  with  a  beautiful  inscription,  in  letters  carefully 
cut  out  and  painted. 

"  Father,  are  you  at  peace  at  last  ?  Come  and  tell 
me.  I  wish  to  wipe  out  of  my  memory  your  worn 
features  and  reproachful  looks.  I  wish  to  see  again 
your  sweet  and  loving  face." 

But  her  father  did  not  appear.  Nothing  now 
troubled  his  peaceful  rest.  Barbet  understood  it. 
He  placed  his  paws  on  Elise's  knees,  and  looked 
into  her  eyes,  trying  to  say  : 

"  Friend,  do  not  awake  sleeping  spirits.  The  time 
has  come  to  take  up  your  life  again,  to  go  to  those 
who  need  you,  to  summon  those  of  whom  you  have 
need." 

Barbet  was  right.  Elise  was  no  longer  alone  in 
the  world.  The  happy  hour  was  at  hand  when  she 
would  take  her  brother  in  her  arms,  the  hour  when 
she  would  give  herself  to  her  betrothed. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

FATHER  HENIN  had  come  back  to  earth  with 
money  in  his  pocket.  His  round  purse  was  really 
like  a  great  ball  in  the  pocket  of  his  jersey,  just  over 
the  place  where  his  heart  once  beat  so  warmly. 
After  a  slight  refitting  his  boat  was  ready  for  use. 

Elise  had  no  thought  of  keeping  all  these  riches 
for  herself.  Was  it  necessary  for  her  to  be  so  care- 
ful, now  that  she  was  to  be  married  ?  She  wished 
to  lay  away  Firmin's  share  simply,  and  to  use  the 
rest  in  making  the  last  days  of  Mother  Loirat  more 
happy.  The  poor  old  woman  was  still  ill  ;  her  ex- 
hausted forces  would,  perhaps,  never  recover  from 
this  last  blow  they  had  received.  Money  is  most 
necessary  in  such  cases. 

Unfortunately,  the  authorities  had  seized  every- 
thing, with  a  view  of  protecting  the  rights  of  the 
heirs,  so  that  Elise's  plans  were  interfered  with  be- 
fore she  was  able  to  carry  them  out. 

Since  the  return  of  Silvere  she  had  been  very 
happy.  She  accepted  help  from  her  lover  as  if  he 
were  already  her  husband.  When  two  people  de- 
termine to  marry,  ought  they  not  to  share  good  and 
bad  alike  ?  Their  wedding  could  not  take  place 
until  after  the  end  of  the  autumn  cruise,  because  big 
Poidevin  would  not  allow  his  men  an  hour  more 
than  he  had  promised,  and  the  sailing  of  the  Jeune- 


206  A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

Adolphine  was  announced  for  the  night  before  the 
full  moon,  three  days  away. 

At  first  Silvere  had  wanted  to  break  his  engage- 
ment with  Poidevin,  and  remain  at  home  until  he 
could  marry  Elise.  After  that  he  would  take  the 
first  boat  for  the  Scotch  seas  and  join  Firmin.  But 
Silvere  was  an  excellent  sailor,  a  hard  worker,  silent, 
sober,  and  prudent,  and  his  captain  had  refused  to 
release  him. 

"  I  cannot  bear  the  idea  of  leaving  you  alone, 
Elise.  You  will  go  to  live  with  Mother  Pilote  ?  " 

"  No,  Silvere.  You  know  that  while  I  have 
accepted  help  from  you  as  if  you  were  my  husband, 
I  should  not  be  willing  to  accept  it  from  another. 
Mother  Pilote  would  despise  me  if  I  were  to  ask  her 
to  support  me.  I  am  not  afraid  of  work.  I  would 
rather  sail  with  you.  Big  Poidevin  would  take  me, 
I  am  sure." 

Since  the  time  when  she  had  led  the  funeral 
cortege  in  advance  of  the  mayor,  Elise  was  held  in 
high  respect  in  the  village.  Not  only  had  they 
forgotten,  as  she  herself  had  forgotten,  the  insults 
with  which  they  had  pursued  her,  but  they  now 
praised  her  as  if  she  were  the  cause  of  all  the  bodies 
having  come  ashore.  She  had  worked  hard,  and,  if 
they  adjudged  her  that  honor,  might  she  not  fairly 
accept  it  ?  Nevertheless,  she  accepted  only  a  small 
part  of  the  praise  they  gave  her.  Her  one  desire 
was  to  make  an  engagement  with  Poidevin. 

Without  further  delay  she  dragged  Silvere  to  the 
wharf,  near  which  she  was  sure  to  meet  the  big 
captain.  Ordinarily  he  was  loafing  on  the  pier,  or 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  207 

more  likely  was  sitting  in  the  sailors' tavern.  They 
looked  for  him  first  at  the  waterside.  Two  coast 
guards  set  them  on  his  track. 

"  Poidevin  ?  You  need  never  look  for  him  near 
water,  his  nose  is  always  over  the  grog."  .. 

He  was  drinking,  as  they  soon  found.  As  they 
entered  the  tavern  door,  Elise  shivered.  She  re- 
called the  scenes  that  had  taken  place  there  so  little 
time  before ;  the  hatred  of  Florimond  and  his 
sailors  ;  and  Barnabe,  buried  only  the  night  before 
among  the  twenty-three  martyrs. 

Barnabe,  more  vicious  through  his  vanity  than 
from  real  wickedness.  Elise  thought  often  of  him, 
the  latest  victim  of  the  Vergoyer.  Fortunately  he 
had  left  no  family,  and  his  death  affected  no  one  in 
the  village.  Elise  was,  perhaps,  the  only  one  who 
had  not  forgotten  him. 

It  took  Poidevin  a  long  time  to  make  up  his 
mind — five  rounds  of  grog,  and  an  hour's  talk,  and 
nothing  definite  yet. 

"  Have  another  drink,  to  wind  up  with,  Poidevin. 
Lise  will  stand  treat." 

"Thanks,  Silvere,"  said  Elise.  "You  know  that 
I  am  no  hand  at  drinking." 

"  Well  then,  for  a  joke,  if  the  girl  will  drink  I  will 
engage  her." 

"Your  word  is  good,  Poidevin.  Lise  will  drink 
willingly." 

She  drank  in  all  frankness,  and  when  she  had 
given  an  account  of  herself  he  kept  his  word.  The)'' 
signed  engagements  over  three  fresh  cups  of  liquor, 
on  the  greasy  table  in  the  smoky  room.  As  she 


208  4   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

wrote  her  name  at  the  bottom  of  the  paper,  she  felt 
the  pen  run  lightly.  She  was  sure  of  the  future, 
for  everything  in  the  past  had  gone  as  she  wished. 

As  she  thought  of  her  approaching  departure, 
which  should  bring  her  nearer  Firmin,  she  let  her 
eyes  wander  through  the  open  door  toward  the 
boats  anchored  in  the  harbor. 

She  was  so  surprised  on  seeing  before  her  the 
little  hunchback,  that  she  sat  perfectly  still.  He 
stopped  short  in  the  doorway.  His  bony  face  was 
paler  and  longer,  and  more  weak  and  sad  than  she 
had  ever  seen  it.  He  did  not  enter,  but  made  a  sign 
to  Elise  to  come  to  him.  He  felt  that  he  could  tell 
more  easily  out  of  doors  what  he  had  to  say. 

He  had  been  discharged  from  the  Bureau,  as 
shortly  as  if  he  had  been  unfaithful.  Immediately 
on  his  return  his  chief  had  summoned  him}  had  re- 
called the  grotesque  spectacle  he  had  made  in  full 
view  of  all  on  the  quay  of  Saint- Valery,  and  em- 
phasizing the  discredit  which  this  cast  on  the 
Bureau,  had  concluded  in  such  a  fashion  that  the 
clerk  had  remembered  the  words  exactly. 

"  I  am  sorry  on  account  of  your  family,  sir,  but  I 
am  obliged  to  discharge  you.  I  should  be  weak  if 
I  were  to  overlook  your  offence.  Go." 

As  he  repeated  the  words  which  struck  her  ear  so 
dolorously,  the  little  hunchback  raised  his  dimmed 
and  mournful  eyes  to  Elise.  Under  his  glance,  the 
unspeakably  sad  glance  of  a  sick  man,  she  started, 
and  her  breast  swelled  with  pity. 

"  Poor  M.  Emile.     What  have  you  done  ?  " 

What   had   he    done?       He    had    made  his   way 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  209 

through  the  streets  of  Saint- Valery  to  the  outskirts 
where  he  lived.  He  had  tried  not  to  show  his  trou- 
ble, lest  he  should  weep  like  a  girl  before  all  these 
people  who  would  be  only  too  happy  at  his  dis- 
grace. 

Then  his  family  had  snubbed  him,  and  had  made 
him  go  the  next  day  and  offer  apologies,  which  the 
commissaire  had  refused. 

Elise  made  up  her  mind  promptly.  She  would  go 
at  once  and  beg  his  forgiveness  from  the  commis- 
saire. After  her  recent  success,  she  did  not  doubt 
that  a  little  courage  and  plenty  of  resolution  were  all 
that  was  needed  to  make  these  mighty  officials  do 
what  was  right. 

She  took  with  her  Silvere  and  Barbet,  crossed  the 
bay,  and  knocked  resolutely  at  the  door  of  the 
bureau.  The  little  hunchback,  who  had  followed 
her,  step  by  step,  pitifully,  like  a  whipped  dog, 
stopped  a  little  way  off  and  hid  himself  beyond  a 
pile  of  joists.  As  she  was  about  to  go  in  Elise 
looked  for  him,  and,  finding  him  after  a  little  search, 
scolded  him  gently. 

"  You  must  come,  M.  Emile.  You  will  never  gain 
anything  without  courage.  It  is  poor  people's 
money.  You  must  come." 

He  went  in,  pushed  by  Elise  rather  than  from  any 
will  of  his  own.  Hardly  had  he  crossed  the  sill  than 
he  dropped  his  head  and  disappeared  behind  her 
skirts.  He  had  seen,  behind  the  heap  of  boxes  at 
his  table,  a  shaggy-head  overtopping  a  large  body. 
His  place  was  filled.  It  was  useless  to  do  any- 
thing. 


210  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

"  We  will  go  in  since  we  are  here,  all  the  same," 
said  Elise.  "  It  will  cost  nothing  to  try." 

But  she  could  not  keep  the  little  hunchback,  who 
glided  to  the  door  so  quickly  that  she  hardly  had 
time  to  put  out  her  two  arms  to  stop  him.  He 
slipped  through  her  hands  and  took  to  his  heels,  but, 
quick  as  he  was,  she  was  up  with  him  in  no  time. 

"Come,  M.  Emile.  I  give  you  a  chance.  You 
must  show  that  you  are  worthy  of  it." 

On  seeing  all  four  enter,  the  commissaire  assumed 
his  dignity  and  his  chair.  He  foresaw  a  vigorous 
attack,  and  took  the  most  available  position  to  with- 
stand it.  He  glanced  at  Barbet  and  the  little  hunch- 
back contemptuously,  paid  no  attention  to  Silvere, 
and  finished  his  scrutiny  by  addressing  to  Elise  a 
smile  of  interrogation. 

She  replied  by  an  exact  statement  of  facts.  M. 
Emile  was  not  able  to  earn  a  living  in  any  other 
way,  and  his  old  parents  needed  his  help ;  places 
were  scarce  at  Saint-Valery — he  wished  to  come 
back,  he  acknowledged  his  fault. 

"  Is  it  not  so,  M.  Emile?  You  will  be  more  cour- 
teous to  the  sailors.  He  will  give  you  back  your 
place,  if  you  will  promise  to  behave  properly." 

Without  raising  his  eyes,  which  were  fixed  on  the 
ground,  the  little  hunchback  stammered  out  unin- 
telligible excuses. 

"  It  is  useless,"  said  the  commissaire.  "  I  have 
arranged  to  fill  your  place." 

Elise  interposed  quickly: 

"Yes,  we  have  seen  the  big,  shaggy  fellow.  Men 
of  that  size  are  not  made  for  such  light  work  as 


A   FIShER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  211 

writing.  They  should  take  other  places  than  those 
fit  for  feeble  folk." 

The  commissaire  laughed.  He  began  to  under- 
stand Elise.  He  forgot  that  he  had  thought  her 
crazed. v  He  found  her  instead  clear-headed  and  de- 
cided, and  actuated  by  a  feeling  of  generous  fairness. 
He  felt  the  power  of  her  strength,  strong  from  its 
very  simplicity,  and  for  fear  of  proving  weak  before 
it,  he  tried  to  break  off  the  interview  abruptly. 

"  Do  not  urge  me.  I  cannot  send  away  a  good 
clerk  to  take  back  a  bad  one." 

"That  is  not  the  point  at  issue  at  all,  for  the  little 
man  promises  to  mend  his  ways.  We  do  not  wish 
to  take  away  his  bread  from  the  big  fellow  either. 
We  will  find  a  place  for  him  more  in  keeping  with 
his  size." 

"  It  is  not  possible.     Leave  me." 

"  No,  we  will  not  go  until  you  promise.  Silvere 
wishes  it  as  much  as  I,  and  Barbet,  too." 

Hearing  his  name  pronounced,  the  dog  wagged  his 
tail,  and  gave  little  barks  of  assent. 

"At  least  turn  the  dog  out.  It  is  the  first  time 
that  any  one  has  taken  the  liberty  of  bringing  a  dog 
into  my  office." 

"  Barbet  is  much  better  than  most  people.  Come, 
Barbet,  make  a  beautiful  bow  to  the  commissaire." 

Barbet  made  his  reverence  as  seriously  as  a  danc- 
ing-master, and  acquitted  himself  of  his  task  with 
a  complaisance  so  amusing  that  the  chief  broke  out 
laughing. 

"Your  beast  is  too  absurd.  Come,  don't  make 
me  lose  any  more  time  with  him." 


212  A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

"  He  knows  also  sailors'  songs.  Barbet,  go  aloft, 
and  sing  the  sailor-boy's  farewell." 

The  dog,  whom  Elise  had  placed  by  a  chair,  put 
his  feet  about  its  legs  and  pretended  to  hoist  him- 
self up,  as  if  it  were  a  rope  and  he  a  monkey.  Then 
sitting  erect  on  the  seat,  he  uttered  a  series  of  mod- 
ulated barks,  long  or  short,  cheerful  or  melancholy, 
always  in  rhythm.  He  nodded  his  head,  opened  and 
closed  his  eyes,  emphasized  parts  with  good  effect, 
and  mimicked  the  play  of  words  with  most  laughable 
contortions. 

The  chief  laughed.  The  strangeness  of  this  inter- 
view put  him  off  his  guard.  Disconcerted  by  the 
na'ivett  of  these  four  intruders,  who,  without  any 
sense  of  Impropriety,  had  taken  possession  of  his 
office,  he  offered  only  a  weak  resistance. 

"Your  beast  is  absurd.  Make  an  end  of  this 
ridiculous  exhibition." 

"  Barbet  knows  how  to  handle  a  boat.  Attention, 
Barbet." 

"  Thanks,  but  do  not  give  him  so  much  trouble  for 
nothing.  I  do  not  care  for  any  more." 

"Oh,  he  loves  to  be  admired.  Come,  Barbet,  to 
the  helm — starboard  to  the  wind." 

Like  a  performer  before  some  high  personage, 
Barbet  showed  all  his  accomplishments,  especially 
the  drill,  which  he  executed  promptly  in  the  most 
approved  fashion,  with  a  ruler  for  a  musket;  a  ruler 
which  Elise  had  boldly  borrowed  from  the  commis- 
saire's  table.  He  was  not  happy  when  he  had  to 
show  a  visit  of  inspection,  for  he  had  not  his  chev- 
rons and  lace,  and  this  infraction  of  rules  did  not 


HE    UTTERED   A   SERIES   OF   MODULATED   BARKS,    LONG   OR   SHORT 


Chap.   23. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   Uf  FRANCE.  213 

seem  proper  to  him.  But  he  made  it  up  to  them 
by  other  tricks  no  less  surprising,  recognizing  boats 
and  taking  children  to  school,  and  finally,  on  a  sign 
from  Elise,  by  dragging  himself  to  the  commissaire's 
feet  as  if  asking  the  offender's  pardon. 

"  We  will  see.  It  is  impossible  in  my  office,  I 
have  filled  his  place  ;  but  I  will  find  him  another 
situation." 

"  No,  we  want  M.  Emile  to  be  with  you.  Your 
big,  shaggy  man  can  be  a  sailor.  That  is  better  than 
writing.  Come,  ask  again,  Barbet." 

"  Go.  Leave  me.  I  will  give  him  the  place. 
This  fashion  of  begging  is  intolerable." 

"  Then  you  will  keep  him  in  your  office !  I 
promised  him  he  should  be  there,  and  I  do  not  want 
you  to  make  me  tell  a  falsehood." 

"  Yes,  yes.     Go  away  w.ith  your  dog." 
"  But  we  must  thank  you  first.     Salute,  Barbet. 
And  you,  too,  M.  Emile,  you  must  kiss  his  hand." 

And  pushing  the  dog  and  the  hunchback  toward 
the  commissaire,  Elise  urged  them  to  profuse 
thanks.  And  behind  them,  she  said  in  her  turn  : 

"I  thank  you  for  M.  Emile.  I  was  the  cause  of 
his  losing  his  place,  and  it  was  right  that  I  should 
secure  his  reinstallment.  Silvere,  offer  your  hand." 
"  Enough !  Enough  !  Leave  me.  If  you  do 
not  all  go  at  once,  I  shall  have  to  take  back  my 
word.  But  it  is  all  right.  Have  you  finished  at 
last?  Adieu." 

All  four  went  out,  Barbet  dignified,  the  hunch- 
back joyful,  Elise  happ)f,  and  Silvere  astounded  at 
her  energy. 


2I4  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

"  You  work  harder  than  a  man." 

"Was  it  I  who  did  it?  No,  it  was  Barbet,  who 
gained  the  commissaire's  ear  by  his  pleasant  ways." 

It  was  not  Barbet.  What  had  gained  the  com- 
missaire's ear  was  the  voice  of  pity;  that  same  voice 
which,  in  the  first  place,  had  made  him  engage  a 
man  who  was  sickly,  and,  as  Elise  had  said,  unable 
to  earn  a  living  in  any  other  way.  Hunchbacks 
are  doomed  from  birth  to  be  either  shopmen  or 
clerks. 

By  his  abrupt  dismissal,  his  chief  had  meant 
simply  to  teach  his  impertinent  clerk  a  lesson.  He 
foresaw  the  usual  attempts  at  reinstatement,  and 
knew  that  the  solicitations  of  the  culprit  himself, 
and  his  relatives  and  friends,  would  give  an  excuse 
to  reinstate  him.  The  big  fellow,  whom  he  had  in- 
stalled in  the  office  experimentally,  was  for  no 
other  purpose  than  to  make  M.  Emile  think  his  dis- 
missal final. 

The  commissaire  had  proposed  to  make  his  pun- 
ishment longer,  that  it  might  produce  a  more  last- 
ing effect.  He  had  meant  it  to  extend  over  some 
weeks,  if  not  months.  He  had  yielded  to  the  en- 
treaties of  Elise,  in  the  belief  that  it  would  be  a 
fresh  humiliation  for  M.  Emile  to  owe  his  pardon 
to  simple  sailors. 

Besides,  Elise  and  her  dog,  by  their  bold  frank- 
ness, had  touched  him,  and,  when  he  shut  the  door 
behind  his  four  visitors,  he  was  no  less  happy  than 
he  supposed  they  were. 

Hardly  were  they  outside  when  the  hunchback 
went  to  Elise.  Great  tears  of  joy  ran  down  his 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  215 

face,  and  stopped  hesitatingly  on  his  knotted  cheek- 
bones. 

"  I  have  only  one  more  favor  to  ask  of  you, 
mademoiselle.  Let  me  embrace  you." 

"  It  was  not  I.  It  was  Barbet,"  she  cried,  stepping 
back. 

"  No,  it  was  you  whom  the  chief  wished  to  please 
because  you  are  so  lovely.  It  would  please  me  so 
much  to  thank  you." 

"  You  must  embrace  Barbet,  too." 

Then,  moved  by  compassion,  she  leaned  forward 
and  presented  him  graciously  her  two  cheeks.  The 
little  hunchback  raised  himself  on  tiptoe  and 
pressed  his  pale  lips,  burning  with  fever,  to  them. 
Then,  seizing  the  dog  in  his  turn,  he  smothered  him 
with  caresses. 

On  the  Place  of  Saint- Valery  the  scattered  sailors, 
who  saw  him  weeping  and  embracing  in  this  singu- 
lar fashion,  burst  into  hearty  guffaws.  It  was  the 
only  revenge  they  had. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

IT  was  the  third  Sunday  in  August  when  Elise, 
confident  in  a  happy  future  and  certain  that  this 
time  she  would  have  good  luck,  embarked  on  the 
Jeune-Adolphine.  She  had  said  farewell  to  Mother 
Pilote,  whom  she  left  quite  disconsolate,  and  who 
had  wished  to  soften  her  solitude  by  keeping  Bar- 
bet.  But  how  could  Barbet  live  away  from  Elise? 
He,  too,  was  going  to  sea. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  the  autumn  fishing. 
They  sought  the  herring  now,  not  to  the  north  of 
Scotland,  but  in  the  North  Sea  near  the  extreme 
limits  of  England.  Doubtless  the  corvette  which 
had  rescued  Firmin  would  be  stationed  at  Edinburgh 
or  Berwick.  Elise  counted  on  finding  some  way  to 
meet  him.  In  the  North  Sea  the  fishing-grounds 
are  more  contracted  than  in  the  ocean,  the  boats 
are  nearer  together  and  communicate  more  easily. 
It  would  be  very  strange  if  they  did  not  meet  either 
the  corvette  herself,  or  at  least  one  of  the  coasters 
who  run  between  the  fishers  and  the  nearest  Eng- 
lish port. 

Thanks  to  Silvere,  Elise  owned  a  share  in  the 
nets.  He  had  not  been  willing  that  she  should  be 
at  a  disadvantage  on  account  of  her  poverty,  and 
had  persuaded  her  to  accept  a  new  outfit. 

216 


A  FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  217 

And  the  third  day  after  the  new  moon,  these  nets 
dropped  into  the  water  for  the  first  time. 

The  Jeune-Adolphine  had  reached  the  fishing- 
grounds  at  noon  only,  but  the  breeze  and  the 
weather  were  so  favorable  that  they  spread  the  nets 
without  delay. 

Twilight,  with  its  serene  harmony,  fell  on  the  sea. 
When  all  the  nets  had  been  set  and  the  boat,  towed 
by  them,  drifted  idly  in  the  current,  Elise,  fasci- 
nated by  the  beauty  of  the  night,  could  not  make 
up  her  mind  to  sleep. 

Stretched  on  the  gunwale  beside  Silvere,  she 
watched  the  golden  lights  on  the  changing  sea, 
which  seemed  in  harmony  with  her  thoughts. 

"Silvere,  I  think  that  we  love  each  other  more 
tenderly  when  we  are  together  in  such  tranquil 
scenes.  Where  away  is  England?" 

For  a  long  time  she  was  silent,  looking  in  the 
direction  where  Silvere  had  pointed. 

"There  is  where  Firmin  is.  He  was  too  ambi- 
tious to  be  a  simple  coast  sailor  like  us.  Do  not  be 
hurt  that  I  think  of  him.  I  am  so  happy  to  know 
that  you  love  me." 

He  said  nothing,  this  big  Silvere,  so  much  afraid 
was  he  of  startling  the  tender  murmur  which  just 
reached  his  ears.  He  overtopped  Elise  by  a  full 
head,  and,  bent  down  toward  her,  he  watched  her 
with  delight,  so  full  of  life  and  so  beautiful  did  she 
seem  under  this  soft  light. 

"Be  sure,  Elise,  that  I  am  not  jealous  of  Firmin. 
We  will  both  love  him,  as  we  both  love  Mother 
Pilote.  You  are  not  envious  of  her  because  I  love 


218  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

her.  I  love  you  both,  but  not  with  the  same 
warmth.  It  must  be  right,  because  it  is  human 
nature." 

During  two  hours  of  drifting  they  talked  to- 
gether, hearing  only  their  own  voice  and  heedless  of 
the  songs  that  came  through  the  half-open  hatch. 

Big  Poidevin  was  drunk.  Two  hours  of  his  cabin 
was  equivalent  with  him  to  a  dozen  drinks,  just 
enough  to  fill  him  full.  But  though  his  brain  might 
be  drowsy  his  eye  was  wide  open,  and  when  the 
moment  came  to  take  up  the  nets  he  was  the  first 
on  deck,  summoning  all  the  men  to  work. 

"Hollo!     Beetle  heads!     Strike  up  work. 

Big  Poidevin,  an  old  quartermaster,  carried  his 
liquor  as  no  other  veteran  aboard. 

When  he  was  full  he  was  as  steady  as  if  he  was 
anchored  with  four  cables.  He  was  the  most  solid 
drinker  on  the  coast.  It  was  his  pride,  after  a  dozen 
drinks,  to  keep  his  balance  as  steady  as  if  he  had 
dined  on  the  empty  wind. 

As  to  the  rest,  he  was  a  good  liver  and  a  pleasant 
companion.  He  had  no  family,  and  took  his  pleas- 
ures only  in  his  bottle  and  glass.  He  had  a  horror 
of  the  shore,  where,  as  he  said,  he  did  not  love  to  lie 
like  a  boat  aground. 

"Hollo!  lads!  When  the  capstan  snores,  the 
sailor  wakes." 

The  capstan  did  not  snore  yet,  but  it  was  evident 
that  he  meant  to  set  it  at  work. 

"  Hollo !  lads !  Wind  from  the  north-east  with  the 
moon.  We  will  take  up  fish  by  the  binful.  Hollo! 
All  on  deck," 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  219 

At  the  captain's  call,  Elise  came  with  Silvere. 
They  were  not  of  opinion  that  it  was  wise  to  take 
up  the  nets  yet.  As  they  had  talked,  they  had  now 
and  then  cast  an  eye  on  the  line  of  floats,  and  had 
noticed  that  they  had  not  settled,  as  was  the  case 
under  a  catch  of  fish.  The  nets  were,  without 
doubt,  empty. 

Their  advice  was  sound.  After  a  long  discussion 
Poidevin  agreed  to  follow  it,  and  disappeared  down 
the  forecastle  ladder.  He  was  going  back  for  an- 
other hour  to  his  mug  and  flask. 

"Let  us  go  and  sleep  like  the  others,  Lise.  You 
will  be  ill  if  you  neglect  your  sleep." 

"No,  not  to-night,  Silvere.  It  is  too  delicious. 
It  goes  to  one's  very  heart.  I  love  to  watch  the 
sea,  now  that  it  has  given  back  my  father." 

"Lise,  dreams  are  not  food.  A  good  sailor,  to 
keep  strong,  must  eat  and  sleep.  Fishing  is  hard 
enough  when  one  gets  one's  rest." 

"Silvere,  look  there.  The  sea  seems  to  be  on 
fire.  Is  it  not  flashing?  What  say  you?" 

Yes,  it  was  the  flash  of  the  herring  which,  like  a 
trail  of  phosphorus,  drew  near  them  rapidly.  The 
wave  seemed  on  fire,  so  filled  was  it  with  iridescent 
lights ;  sapphire  blue,  emerald  green,  red  gold,  shad- 
ing off  into  silvery  gleams.  It  was  as  if  a  pageant 
beneath  the  water  was  advancing,  with  a  bewilder- 
ment of  gleaming  metal  and  precious  gems.  It  was 
impossible  to  look  at  it.  The  moon,  ordinarily  so 
white,  seemed,  in  comparison,  of  a  dirty  gray.  It 
looked  so  dejected  that  Elise  threw  it  a  glance  of 
pity. 


220  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

"Is  it  possible  that  this  light  in  the  sea  can  snuff 
out  the  moon,  as  she  snuffs  out  the  stars?  Silvere, 
what  makes  the  herring  gleam  so?  They  burn  the 
eyes." 

She  buried  her  face  in  his  shoulder.  He,  laugh- 
ing, held  her  dear  head  with  his  great  hand,  which 
he  tried  to  make  soft  for  the  task. 

"Look,  Lise.  They  are  going  to  rush  intp  our 
net.  Look,  it  will  be  like  fireworks." 

As  rapidly  as  a  lake  of  fire  which  has  burst  its 
bounds,  the  school  of  herring  advanced,  grazing  the 
surface  of  the  water,  every  back  and  fin  scintillating 
with  light,  and  lighting  up  the  night  with  their 
blinding  gleams. 

"Quick,  Lise,  they  are  here." 

There  was  a  splash  of  fire  like  burning  coals;  an 
electric  snapping  through  the  whole  mass,  as  if  a 
stream,  arrested  by  a  wall,  had  dashed  back  on  itself 
in  foaming  fury.  All  the  nets  came  to  the  surface 
along  their  length  to  the  very  end,  in  a  gleaming 
tremor.  And  the  school  of  herring,  dispersing 
abruptly,  disappeared  behind  the  boat,  like  the  last 
rays  of  an  expiring  fire. 

After  the  light  had  passed,  and  their  eyes,  accus- 
tomed again  to  the  twilight,  could  distinguish  ob- 
jects, they  saw  that  the  nets  were  dragged  down 
under  the  weight  of  their  strangling,  struggling 
victims. 

"Captain,  it  is  time  to  haul  in.  The  floats  are 
sunk." 

Big  Poidevin  had  had  an  hour  too  much.  Con- 
trary to  his  habit,  he  scuffled  along  and  staggered. 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  221 

When  he  tried  to  mount  to  the  deck,  he  missed  the 
rounds  of  the  ladder  and  fell  heavily  on  the  plank- 
ing. 

"This  is  no  time  to  lose  control,  captain;  the  fish 
can  be  taken  by  armfuls." 

The  captain  rose  to  his  feet,  furious  at  losing  his 
reputation  as  a  hard-headed  drinker.  He  bent  all 
his  energies  to  gaining  the  deck  without  further 
weakness,  and,  the  ladder  mounted,  he  called  all  the 
men  with  a  triumphant  shout. 

With  pantings  and  groanings  from  the  capstan, 
and  shouts  from  the  sailors,  the  work  began.  As 
soon  as  taken  aboard  the  nets  were  shaken  over  the 
hatches,  into  which  the  fish  fell  in  a  phosphorescent 
rain.  Salt  was  thrown  in  with  them,  and  when  the 
hatches  were  filled  to  the  very  top  all  hands  were 
ready  for  a  chowder.  They  had  caught  thousands. 

It  was  the  next  day  at  noon  only  that  the  work 
was  finished.  In  a  single  night  more  than  half  the 
boat's  bins  were  full,  half  of  their  catch  was  taken. 
Six  hundred  measures.  It  was  wonderful. 

They  spread  their  nets  again  the  next  night  and 
the  nights  after  that.  While  the  fishing  is  good  no 
one  minds  hard  work  and  each  day  brings  variety. 

They  caught  after  that,  according  to  the  weather, 
from  two  hundred  measures  at  most,  down  to  fifty 
and  even  twenty-five. 

The  chance  to  meet  a  school  at  the  right  moment 
does  not  come  twice. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

AT  daybreak  of  the  twenty-first  day  the  boat  was 
still  fishing.  Like  the  herring,  she  had  moved 
southward  insensibly,  but  without  leaving  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Scotland.  At  every  hour  of  the  day 
Elise  searched  the  horizon  for  the  corvette  and  Fir- 
min,  but  saw  no  trace  of  them. 

Always  bad  luck.  In  twenty  days  they  had  not 
only  not  seen  the  corvette,  but  not  even  a  coaster 
from  some  English  port.  They  were  so  near  one 
another,  they  wished  for  one  another  so  much,  and 
yet  could  not  meet. 

Well,  she  would  force  fortune  to  yield  yet ;  she 
would  discover  the  corvette  if  she  put  out  her  eyes 
in  trying  to  pierce  the  horizon.  She  passed  all  her 
spare  moments  standing  on  the  gunwale  peering 
into  space,  but  it  gave  no  answer  to  her  heart's 
desire.  At  first  she  had  tried  to  watch  at  night, 
too,  but  she  simply  used  herself  up  uselessly,  for 
she  could  not  distinguish  between  the  lanterns,  and 
thought  she  recognized  the  corvette  by  the  cut  of 
her  sails,  only  to  find  out,  after  a  long  examination, 
that  in  the  half-light  she  had  mistaken  a  small  boat 
for  a  large  vessel. 

Then  she  had  given  up  night  watching  as  useless, 
but  every  morning,  before  the  first  rays  of  dawn 
had  pierced  the  shadows,  she  was  on  the  deck 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  223 

and    there    she   stayed    until    the   last   glimmer   of 
light. 

She  began  to  be  desperate,  because  the  boat  was 
slowly  filling  its  bunks,  and  the  end  of  the  cruise 
was  near  at  hand. 

She  was  on  duty  that  morning  at  the  helm,  and 
was  tacking  about  waiting  until  it  was  time  to  cast 
the  nets.  Silvere  was  below  asleep,  but  Barbet 
watched  beside  his  mistress.  Unhappy  Barbet. 
He  did  not  like  it  on  board  at  all,  for  it  was  his  first 
voyage.  He  had  passed  through  a  wretched  novi- 
tiate. Sick  at  heart,  he  lay  stretched  among  the 
piles  of  nets,  groaning  at  each  movement  of  the 
boat,  and  hardly  having  strength  to  open  his  eyes 
at  Elise's  voice. 

For  five  days  he  had  counted  his  shirts,  as  the 
sailors  mockingly  say.  Then  he  had  become  used 
to  it  all,  and  after  that  Barbet  feared  the  motion  no 
more  than  any  old  hand.  At  that  moment  he 
raised  his  nose  and  ears  and  yelped,  to  advise  Elise 
that  she  was  nearing  something  unusual. 

She  thought  at  first  that  he  saw  the  corvette  and 
was  announcing  Firmin,  but  though  she  looked  all 
about,  she  could  see  nothing  like  the  government 
boat. 

Until  then  they  had  come  across  trading  steamers 
only,  and  especially  coal  ships,  heavy  in  their  build, 
and  a  solid  mass  of  black.  They  are  clumsy  to 
handle,  have  a  small  crew,  and  cannot  easily  change 
their  course.  They  go  right  on  without  regard  to 
other  vessels,  and  small  boats  must  look  sharp  and 
keep  out  of  their  way.  They  do  not  mind  a  col- 


224  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

lision  in  the  least,  for  they  cannot  be  capsized. 
They  are  afraid  of  one  another  only. 

They  can  be  seen  in  these  seas  in  troops.  Elise 
kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  them  while  she  was  at  the 
helm.  She  had  told  Barbet  to  announce  them, 
but  it  was  not  one  of  these  which  he  was  signalling 
now. 

"What  is  it  then,  Barbet.  Is  it  those  breakers 
that  we  can  just  make  out  before  us?  They  look 
like  a  floating  island." 

The  dog  yelped  louder. 

"Don't  be  impatient.  We  will  run  down  to 
them.  As  well  go  there  as  elsewhere.  Misery ! 
They  look  like  nets.  You  say,  yes,  Barbet?  I 
think  that  a  boat  must  have  been  lost.  Tell  me,  is 
it  one  of  ours?  You  are  not  telling  the  truth  !  No ! 
do  not  deceive  me.  It  is  not  the  Bon  PecJieur — I 
should  be  too  wretched  if  any  harm  came  to  Flori- 
mond.  Quick,  Barbet,  go  and  bring  Silvere!  " 

The  dog  made  one  bound  to  the  forecastle,  and 
returned  at  once,  dragging  by  his  trouser's  leg  big 
Silvere,  who  was  still  half  asleep. 

"Tell  the  captain  to  order  a  boat,  to  go  and  see 
what  is  floating  there." 

When  the  captain  was  asleep  he  did  not  like  to  bo 
waked.  The  boat  was  in  the  water  towing  behind. 

On  his  own  responsibility  Silvere  dropped  into  it 
with  two  men.  They  quickly  reached  the  nets, 
which  were  so  snarled  together  that  they  seemed 
like  a  heap  of  rocks. 

Nets  and  floats  drifted  at  the  pleasure  of  the  cur- 
rent like  a  raft.  The  men  climbed  on  them  as 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  225 

securely  as  on  a  projecting  reef.  They  walked 
across  them,  digging  and  prodding  with  their  boat 
hooks. 

"Not  a  man  under  them,"  cried  Silvere  to  Elise. 

He  lifted  one  of  the  floats  and  read  the  marks 
painted  around  its  middle. 

S.  V.  S.  S.  1234. 

Is  it  Florimond's  number?  Yes.  Barbet  was 
right.  Twelve  hundred  and  thirty-four  was  the 
number  of  the  Bon-Pecheur.  The  four  letters  indi- 
cated Saint-Valery-sur-Somme.  There  was  no  ques- 
tion about  it. 

"Look  further,  Silvere.  I  am  surprised,  if  his 
sloop  were  uninjured,  that  my  cousin  should  have 
abandoned  his  nets.  He  would  sooner  have  towed 
them  into  some  English  port." 

Fresh  examination  brought  no  other  results. 
The  herring,  fast  here  and  there  in  the  meshes  and 
quite  fresh,  showed  that  the  accident  had  been 
recent. 

The  three  men  searched  a  long  time  for  the  end 
of  the  hawser  to  find  out  whether  it  was  cut  or  torn. 
If  it  were  cut  it  was  the  work  of  thieves;  if  it  were 
torn  it  would  show  that  there  had  been  a  collision. 
But  it  was  hidden  away  in  the  tangle  of  cordage 
and  rope,  and  they  could  not  find  it. 

"Count  the  floats,  Silvere.  I  should  say  at  a 
glance  that  they  were  all  there." 

Parblen  !  There  are  a  hundred  at  least  here — as 
many  over  there — thirty  more — there  are  so  many 
they  cannot  count  them. 

The  whole  outfit  was  there,  adrift. 


226  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

"It  is  very  perplexing,  Silvere.  I  am  of  opinion 
that  the  Bon-Pecheur  is  a  bad  risk." 

While  the  three  men  were  returning  Elise  con- 
sulted Barbet. 

"Barbet,  can  you  tell  me  where  Cousin  Flori- 
mond  is?" 

The  dog,  who  was  seated  quietly  on  his  hind 
quarters,  rose  on  his  four  feet.  He  placed  himself 
face  to  the  wind,  which  came  from  the  north-east, 
and  for  a  long  time  tried  to  scent  something.  But 
he  could  not.  He  scowled,  sniffed  contemptuously, 
and  appeared  dissatisfied  with  the  weather  and  him- 
self. He  turned  slowly  a  quarter  or  third  of  a  circle, 
trimming  himself  in  the  wind. 

In  the  west  he  could  perceive  nothing.  In  the 
north-west  he  thought  he  had  a  trace,  his  hair 
bristled  up  as  he  barked  loudly ;  then  he  stopped  dis- 
couraged, and  sat  down  again,  shaking  his  big  head 
as  if  to  say:  "It  is  useless  to  try.  In  these  half- 
breezes  of  summer  the  air  lies  still,  and  the  scent 
does  not  travel  at  all." 

"Come,  Barbet,  I  never  knew  you  to  weary  over 
your  work.  You  have  not  smelled  in  every  direc- 
tion." 

The  dog  walked  about  idly. 

"Barbet,  I  beg  you.  It  is  wicked  not  to  do  your 
best  to  help  others.  I  beg  you." 

He  started  again  at  the  north-west,  and  scented 
afresh  without  perceiving  anything,  and,  simply  to 
please  his  mistress,  turned  slowly  around  like  the 
needle  of  a  compass  on  its  dial.  No  trace  was  to  be 
found  in  the  west  or  south,  and  he  sat  down  again. 


A    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  227 

"Barbet,  you  are  bad.  You  put  no  heart  in  your 
work.  If  you  cannot  act  honorably  I  will  not  have 
you  any  longer  for  my  shipmate." 

Elise  and  Barbet  were  shipmates,  that  is,  they 
slept  together.  Sailors  sleep  two  in  a  bunk,  and  the 
number  of  bunks  being  limited  she  had  great  diffi- 
culty in  arranging  that  Barbet  should  share  hers. 
For  him,  it  was  the  pleasantest  moment  of  the 
cruise.  When  the  time  came  for  sleep  he  let  Elise 
lie  at  the  back,  while  he  stretched  himself,  his  head 
on  his  paws,  facing  outward. 

As  long  as  there  was  any  noise  in  the  place  he  lay 
thus,  sleeping  that  half-sleep  of  dogs  who  know  how 
to  watch  with  their  eyes  shut.  But  after  each  relief, 
when  those  who  had  come  down  last  were  sleeping 
in  their  turn,  and  he  heard  their  heavy  snores,  then, 
easy  in  his  mind,  he  slipped  up  to  Elise,  laid  his 
head  on  her  and  gave  himself  up  to  pleasant  dreams. 

The  rolling  of  the  boat  rocked  him  softly,  and 
Barbet  abandoned  himself  to  the  joy  of  feeling 
under  his  head  the  rise  and  fall  of  her  warm  breast. 

For  nothing  in  the  world  would  he  have  risked  so 
delightful  a  place.  At  Elise's  threat  he  sprang  up, 
ready  for  anything  rather  than  lose  his  shipmate. 
He  began  turning  about  again. 

West-south-west—nothing.  South-west — south- 
south-west —  nothing.  South-south  a  quarter  east. 

"Have  you  gone  crazy,  Barbet?  You  are  upset- 
ting me." 

The  dog  pulled  Elise  by  the  leg.  Seeing  that  she 
did  not  understand  he  threw  himself  on  the  tiller, 
as  if  to  push  it  in  the  direction  he  wished. 


228  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

When  she  was  steering  as  he  wished,  he  ran  for- 
ward to  the  jib,  and  by  leaps  and  snaps  forced  the 
sailor  on  duty  there  to  shift  the  sheet. 

The  boat  tacked  and  ran  south  a  quarter  south- 
east. 

Then,  proud  as  a  commander  on  his  deck,  Barbet 
with  a  leap  settled  himself  on  a  cask  not  far  from 
Elise,  and  from  there  watched  at  the  same  time  the 
helm,  the  sails,  and  the  hori-zon,  to  see  that  the 
boat  should  not  make  leeway  from  the  strength  of 
a  current. 

Elise  had  a  fresh  cause  for  anxiety.  She  had 
been  sent  to  the  helm,  and  was  responsible  for  car- 
rying out  the  orders  given  her. 

She  had  no  right  to  deviate  from  them  without 
fresh  directions  from  the  captain.  She  called  Sil- 
vere: 

"Wake  up  Poidevin.  We  have  no  right  to  change 
our  course  unless  he  directs  it." 

Silvere  hesitated.  He  knew  what  he  would  get 
by  disturbing  Poidevin's  sleep ;  insults  and  a  refusal, 
nothing  more. 

"Very  well,  then  I  will  awake  him  myself.  Per- 
haps he  will  be  less  disagreeable  to  a  woman." 

And  confiding  the  boat  to  Silvere,  Elise  started 
down  the  ladder.  Barbet  tried  to  follow  her. 

"No,  stay  behind,  Barbet.  You  know  that  the 
skipper  does  not  like  you  since  the  day  when  you 
upset  his  grog.  One  should  not  be  clumsy  if  they 
want  to  make  friends." 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

ELISE  was  all  in  a  tremble,  and  her  heart  beat  fast 
as  she  descended  the  ladder  of  the  hatch  and  heard 
the  heavy  breathing  of  the  captain,  who  lay  there 
snoring.  But  her  uneasiness  at  knowing  that  the 
Bon-Pecheur  was  in  distress,  and  the  fear  of  bringing 
help  too  late,  decided  her. 

"Captain — it  is  I — I  am  sorry,  but  it  is  impor- 
tant." 

"  Hen — Heu  " — Big  Poidevin  turned  over  to  sleep 
on  the  other  side. 

"  Captain,  listen,  it  is  important." 

Elise  had  no  reply.  She  put  out  her  hand  and 
struck  him  lightly  on  his  fat  shoulder. 

"  Beetle  head  !     Don't  touch  me,  or  beware." 

And  the  captain  buried  his  head  in  the  fold  of  his 
arm  with  a  growl  that  did  not  admit  of  further 
urging. 

Elise  went  back  to  the  deck,  called  one  of  the  sail- 
ors to  the  helm,  and  taking  Silvere  by  the  arm  led 
him  to  the  forecastle. 

"  I  shall  be  bolder  with  you.  I  will  hold  your 
hand  so  as  to  add  your  strength  to  mine.  Come 
Barbet,  one  cannot  have  too  many  friends  to  encour- 
age one." 

All  three  climbed  down,  Elise  helped  by  her  lover, 
and  happy  this  time,  for  she  knew  that  she  had  the 


2 3°  A   Fl SHE R   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

support  of  one  man  in  facing  another.  She  knew 
that  Silvere  was  not  a  coward,  for  she  had  had  good 
proof.  She  felt  her  strength  increased  by  his 
strength,  her  courage  by  his  courage. 

"  Captain,  you  must  wake  up." 

Poidevin  snorted  like  a  mad  whale.  He  struck 
with  his  fist  the  wall  of  his  bunk,  heavily  enough  to 
wake  all  the  other  sleepers. 

"  By  my  sainted  mother  !  " 

"  South,  a  quarter  south-east,  captain." 

"  Let  me  sleep." 

"  It  is  on  account  of  Cousin  Florimond." 

"  Florimond  !  He  is  not  worth  even  a  half  mug 
of  grog." 

"  He  is  in  trouble,  captain  !    We  must  help  him  !  " 

"  A  braggart !  Let  him  get  himself  out  of  trouble, 
he  who  is  so  superior  to  others." 

"All  the  same,  captain,  you  must  get  up  and " 

"  No  !     Death  of  my  soul,  no  !  " 

And  for  the  third  time  Poidevin  went  to  sleep. 

"  Then  I  am  going  to  take  the  helm.  You  will 
hold  me  blameless?" 

"  By  my  sainted  mother  !  " 

That  was  Poidevin's  oath,  his  unusual  exclamation, 
when  he  wished  to  put  an  end  to  a  discussion  and 
was  thoroughly  angry. 

"  Very  well,  captain,  by  your  mother  and  by  all  that 
is  dear  to  you,  I  tell  you  that  you  must  go  to  the  help 
of  these  men  in  danger  and  misery.  If  any  are  lost 
through  your  fault  you  will  suffer  tortures  of  mind. 
You  will  see  them  at  night  in  bodily  presence,  with 
eyes  which  reproach  you  and  fingers  which  point  at 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  23l 

you.  You  will  see  them  pale  from  lack  of  sleep,  and 
you  will  have  no  more  sleep  yourself.  It  is  not  right 
to  stupefy  one's  self  with  drink  and  leave  others  to 
die.  They  will  pursue  you,  Poidevin.  You  may 
drink  harder  than  ever,  but  you  will  see  them  as 
plainly  as  if  you  were  sober.  I  saw  my  father  and 
I  wanted  to  die.  I  tell  you  that  you  must  get  up." 

Poidevin  sat  up  stupidly.  With  his  little  gray 
eyes,  all  sunk  in  their  sockets,  he  looked  at  Elise, 
then  at  Silvere,  then  at  the  other  sailors  who  had 
been  drawn  by  the  noise  of  the  dispute. 

"  Come,  follow  up  their  tracks,  captain.  Lise  is 
right.  Sailors  ought  to  stand  by  one  another." 

Growling  and  shaking  off  painfully  his  stupor,  the 
captain  struggled  to  his  feet,  then  climbed  out  and 
went  to  the  helm.  He  noted  their  course  and 
approved  it,  and  the  boat  sailed  on  south  a  quarter 
south-east. 

Then  Elise,  exhausted  by  her  efforts  and  overcome 
by  her  feelings,  fell  into  Silvere's  arms. 

"  Lise,  Lise,  my  beloved,  you  are  more  observant 
than  any  man  and  handier  than  any  woman." 

And  he  drew  her  close  to  his  heart  and  lips  in  an 
irresistible  outburst  of  admiration. 

For  an  hour  now  they  had  run  in  the  direction 
pointed  out  by  Barbet,  and  had  seen  nothing. 
Poidevin  had  become  sober  through  impatience. 
They  would  lose  theircluetothe  herring ;  they  would 
lose  a  day's  fishing,  and  all  for  the  pleasure  of  follow- 
ing a  dog's  suggestions.  He  would  allow  ten 
minutes,  but  not  another  minute  more.  If  they 


23 2  A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

waited  until  night  in  order  to  find  themselves  in  the 
bed  of  the  fish  they  risked  going  to  bed  themselves 
without  any. 

The  more  the  time  ran  on  without  any  results  the 
more  anxiously  did  Elise  scan  the  sea. 

"  Barbet,  you  have  not  deceived  me  ?" 

The  dog  did  not  answer.  He  was  mortified  that 
they  should  have  doubted  him.  For  an  hour  Elise 
had  been  troubling  him  to  repeat  every  little  while 
the  same  signal,  and  he  was  annoyed  in  his  turn. 
Silent  and  resolute,  his  eye  fixed  on  the  point 
whence  came  the  scent  of  the  shipwrecked  men,  he 
waited  to  see  them  before  speaking. 

The  ten  minutes  passed.  Poidevin  had  no  watch, 
but  he  could  tell  the  time  by  the  sun  without  ever 
being  out  a  second.  It  was  a  good  enough  watch 
for  him  ;  it  wound  itself  and  did  not  have  to  be 
carried  in  the  pocket. 

Noting  its  position  above  the  horizon  the  mo- 
ment he  saw  the  time  was  up,  he  shouted : 

"  Get  ready  to  come  about.     Loose  the  jib-sheet !  " 

"  No,  Poidevin,  just  ten  minutes  more  and  I  will 
not  ask  for  another  one.  I  promise  you,  Poidevin." 

"  Ready  to  come  about !  " 

"  They  cannot  be  far,  captain,  from  the  drift  of 
their  nets.  Barbet,  do  you  see  nothing?  Speak, 
my  old  Barbet." 

The  dog  remained  silent,  and  the  captain  un- 
decided. 

"  Ten  minutes.  Is  it  too  much  to  give  for  peace 
of  mind  ?  You  will  be  glad  of  it,  Poidevin." 

Ten  minutes  short  as  ten  seconds. 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OI-   I-'RAXCE.  233 

They  sailed  fast,  but  found  nothing. 

Nothing  on  the  horizon.  A  boat  is  large  enough 
to  be  seen  far  off.  One  can  distinguish  it  easily. 
But  there  were  only  the  colliers,  with  their  heavy 
rigging  and  their  black  sails.  Poidevin  had  his  eye 
on  the  sun.  The  second  ten  minutes  passed. 

"  Ready  to  come  about !     Loose  the  jib-sheet." 

"  Captain,  if  you  knew  how  I  suffered  on  my 
father's  account,  you  would  risk  five  minutes  more. 
Five  minutes — will  you  condemn  yourself  for  so 
little  time?" 

"  You  trouble  me,  Lise.  We  fairly  creep  along 
now  under  our  load  of  fish.  Will  it  take  us  as  long 
to  go  back  as  it  has  to  come  ?  If  we  once  lose  the 
fish,  who  knows  when  we  shall  find  them  again." 

"We  will  all  take  a  hand  in  working  her." 

"  You  talk  nonsense.     Can  you  push  the  boat  ?  " 

"  Captain,  do  not  punish  yourself.  You  do  not 
know  the  torment  it  brings.  Do  you  see  nothing, 
my  old  Barbet?  If  you  see  ever  so  little,  tell  Poide- 
vin." 

Barbet  kept  perfectly  silent. 

"  Ready  to  come  about  !     Loose  the  jib-sheet." 

And  without  further  hesitation  the  boat  headed 
back  on  the  way  she  had  come.  In  despair,  as  she 
thought  of  her  cousin  Florimond,  so  fine  and  so 
strong,  whom  the  envious  sea  would  soon  claim,  Elise 
sank  down  on  the  deck. 

"Luff  her.     Hug  the  wind." 

"  Captain,  I  beg  you— 

"  Give  her  nearly  a  full." 

"  Captain,  Barbet  speaks — come  about ! — Barbet 


234  A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

has  spoken  ! — Come  about,  quickly  ! — Yes  !  over 
there! — No! — Barbet  is  fooling  us! — That  is  not  a 
boat ! — It  is  more  like  a  beacon  ! — The  glass " 

Elise  was  at  the  hatch  before  she  had  finished 
speaking.  She  slipped  from  the  ladder  in  her  haste 
to  go  doxvn,  but,  picking  herself  up  seized  the  glass, 
and,  climbing  quickly  back,  adjusted  it. 

"  Come  about,  captain  ;  there  are  three  men  there. 
They  seem  to  be  on  a  buoy." 

She  ran  to  Poidevin,  and  placed  it  before  his  eyes. 
She  trembled  so  that  he  could  see  nothing. 

"  Let  me  have  it  alone.  You  jiggle  it  so  under 
my  nose  that  you  upset  all  my  ideas." 

He  squared  it,  correcting  the  range  carefully,  and 
looked  for  a  third  time.  Elise  trembled  with  ner- 
vous anxiety.  Finally  Poidevin  made  them  out. 
He  threw  himself  on  the  helm,  and,  with  a  voice  like 
a  roll  of  thunder  : 

"  Hoist  all  sail.  Do  not  lose  a  breath  of  wind. 
Head  south,  a  quarter  south-east." 

The  "boat  again  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  cast- 
aways. The  men  who  were  not  working  her  strug- 
gled for  the  glass.  They  could  nearly  make  out 
the  wreckage  with  the  naked  eye,  but  the  glass 
showed  more  than  three  men.  There  were  six, 
astride  of  a  mast,  a  buoy,  or  a  beacon  ;  they  could 
not  tell  what  it  was. 

"  Get  the  small  boat  ready.  Take  boat-hooks  and 
ropes." 

The  boat  could  not  sail  fast  enough  to  please  the 
captain.  Big  Poidevin  was  warm-hearted  when  he 
was  not  in  liquor.  He  hated  to  cry,  for  it  gave  him 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  235 

a  cold ;  but  his  eyes  filled  with  tears,  so  greatly  was 
he  moved  at  these  men's  sufferings. 

"Death  of  my  soul,  Elise!  they  will  owe  you  a 
good  turn,  those  fellows  there,  if  they  ever  realize 
what  you  have  done  for  them." 

"  Let  us  make  haste,  captain.  The  sailors  can 
make  out  only  five  men  through  the  glass.  There 
were  certainly  six.  One  must  have  fallen." 

There  were  not  even  five,  but  only  four,  when  the 
sloop  reached  them.  All  had  seen  the  Jeune-Adol- 
phine  coming,  but  their  strength  had  not  held 
out. 

Elise  slipped  hurriedly  into  the  small  boat,  taking 
with  her  Silvere  and  two  sailors.  She  was  to  steer, 
Silvere  held  himself  free  for  the  work  of  rescue,  and 
the  two  sailors  were  to  row. 

They  drew  near  the  wretched  men,  who  were 
clinging  to  a  boat's  mast,  as  they  could  tell  by  the 
rigging  and  by  the  tin  pennant,  which  was  still 
showing  the  direction  of  the  wind,  as  if  in  irony. 

The  Bon-Pecheurs  hull  had  been  crushed,  and, 
before  she  disappeared  forever,  she  lay  floating  out 
of  sight ;  as  if  in  the  last  effort  of  a  faithful  servant 
to  offer  in  her  top-mast  a  place  of  refuge  for  the  sur- 
vivors of  her  crew. 

Florimond  was  there.  They  learned  later  on  the 
details  of  the  disaster.  He  had  been  run  down  the 
night  before,  while  fishing.  A  collier,  rather  than 
swerve  a  trifle  from  her  course,  had  gone  over 
the  Bon-P$cheur,  which,  hampered  in  her  movements 
by  the  floating  nets,  had  not  been  able  to  avoid  her. 
Twelve  men,  including  the  boy,  had  taken  refuge  in 


236  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

the  small  boat,  which  was  capable,  at  most,  of  hold- 
ing half  that  number.     What  had  become  of  them  ? 

For  fifteen  hours  the  other  six  had  clung  to  the 
main-mast. 

They  had  seen  craft  of  all  kinds.  In  those  seas 
they  were  nearly  as  common  as  vehicles  on  a  road 
on  shore  ;  but  no  one  had  seen  them,  or  had  wanted  to 
see  them.  They  were  about  to  let  go,  in  exhaus- 
tion and  despair, when  \\\e  Jeune-AdolpJiine  had  ap- 
peared. Two  of  them,  alas!  had  not  been  able  to 
hold  out  for  the  few  minutes  until  help  came. 

"  Keep  up  yourcourage,  Cousin  Florimond.  Pull 
hard,  men.  Aim  well,  Silvere." 

It  was  not  easy  to  come  alongside  the  men.  The 
rigging  around  the  mast  kept  the  boat  off,  and 
made  it  necessary  for  them  to  slide  down  into  the 
water  and  be  fished  out  afterward  with  the  gaff. 
They  were  so  weak,  so  nearly  at  their  last  gasp,  and 
so  spent  that  they  could  do  nothing  to  help  them- 
selves. Unconsciously,  as  it  were,  they  clung  fast, 
seeming  to  have  lost  all  power  of  thought  and  ac- 
tion. The  captain  was  highest  on  the  mast,  and  the 
three  men  were  below  him. 

"  Aim  straight,  Silvere.  Slide  down,  Old  Quar- 
relsome." 

Old  Quarrelsome  was  a  well-known  sailor  of  the 
Bon-Pecheur,  and  a  great  hand  to  use  his  fists  or  his 
knife.  Elise  knew  him,  for  she  had  made  her  first 
cruise  with  him,  and  had  often  seen  him  among  her 
enemies.  How  many  times  he  had  stirred  up  Flori- 
mond against  her.  It  was  he  who  held  the  jigger- 
sheet  when  Silvere  and  Barnab£  had  quarrelled,  and 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  237 

who  had  urged  them  on  by  his  cries.  Elise  forgot 
it  all,  and  Silvere,  too,  had  no  desire  to  recall  it. 

"  Hurry,  Old  Quarrelsome,  the  others  are  wait- 
ing." 

The  man  did  not  dare  to  move.  His  mind  was 
weakened,  as  well  as  his  body.  He  looked  at  them 
stupidly,  as  if  he  did  not  understand.  A  kick  on 
the  head,  which  Florimond  brutally  dealt  him,  made 
him  loose  his  hold.  He  plunged  and  disappeared, 
but  the  gaff  followed  and  he  came  to  the  surface 
with  it  fast  to  him,  like  a  sturgeon  at  the  end  of  a 
harpoon,  and  was  quickly  hauled  aboard. 

It  was  the  second  man's  turn.  He  was  an  or- 
phan and  nearly  an  idiot,  whom  the  sailors  called 
Stutterer.  It  was,  doubtless,  partly  through  pity,  for 
words  failed  him  more  from  stupidity  than  from  any 
trouble  with  his  tongue.  Elise  knew  him,  too,  as 
she  knew  all  the  men  on  the  Bon-Pecheur.  Ill-tem- 
pered by  reason  of  his  infirmity,  he  had  treated  her 
roughly  at  times.  She  forgave  him. 

"  Slide  down,  Stutterer." 

He  clung  stupidly  to  the  mast,  uttering  cries  like 
a  monkey  in  distress.  A  kick,  which  resounded  on 
his  hard  skull,  knocked  him  senseless  into  the  water, 
where  he  was  seized  by  the  hook  of  the  gaff  and 
was  soon  with  his  fellow  in  the  boat. 

"  Hurrah  !  Silvere  !  "  shouted  Poidevin  and  all  his 
men,  as  from  the  deck  of  the  Jeune-Adolphine  they 
watched  this  strange  fishing.  "  Hurrah  ! " 

They  had  to  go  to  the  other  side  of  the  mast  to 
get  the  third  man.  He  could  not  help  himself  any 
more  than  the  others.  He  clung  more  firmly  even 


238  A   FISHER   GIKL   OF  FRAXCE. 

than  they,  and  did  not  drop  until  he  had  received 
four  kicks.  He  was  unconscious  when  he  was 
hauled  in  at  the  end  of  Silvere's  unerring  gaff. 

Then  they  rowed  to  the  Jeune-Adolphine  to  carry 
the  three  men  whom  they  had  rescued,  for  the  boat 
was  already  overloaded. 

"We  will  come  back  for  you,"Florimond.  Hold 
fast." 

"  Don't  be  uneasy,  Lise.  I  can  hang  on  as  long 
as  necessary.  I  am  not  an  old  woman." 

Florimond  was  always  a  man  of  surprises.  He 
was  stronger  than  any  one.  After  hanging  at  arm's 
length  for  fifteen  hours,  he  could  have  hung  on  an- 
other day  and  night.  When  he  saw  the  boat  re- 
turning he  slid  down  the  mast  to  the  water,  refused 
the  aid  of  the  gaff  which  was  held  him,  and  struck 
out,  like  a  virtuoso  in  his  bath,  to  swim  to  them. 

He  was  fine,  was  Florimond.  His  muscular  arms 
cleft  the  water,  above  which  towered  his  proud, 
bronzed  face.  Suddenly  he  started,  and  stopped  as 
if  caught  fast. 

"Help,  Silvere!" 

The  gaff  was  within  reach  of  his  hand,  but  he 
could  not  seize  it.  His  rigid  fingers  stood  out  stiffly 
for  some  instants  above  the  water,  and  then  disap- 
peared. 

"  Do  not  let  him  die,  Silvere.  To  the  rescue,  r..y 
old  Barbet." 

The  dog  leaped  overboard  and  reappeared  pres- 
ently, splashing  like  a  cat,  with  a  piece  of  a  blouse 
in  his  mouth.  The  gaff  came  to  his  aid  and  dragged 
up  a  bundle  of  flesh  and  clothes,  which  seemed  life- 


HIS  RIGID   HNGERS   STOOD  OUT   STIFFLY   FOR   SOME  INSTANTS 
ABOVE  THE  WATER. 


Chap.    26. 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  239 

less.  But  the  arms  suddenly  clutched  the  offered 
help.  "  Haul  him  in,  Silvere.  He  is  saved  !  " 

"  Misery  !     Help,  Poidevin  !  " 

Dragged  down  by  Florimond's  weight  and  thrown 
off  his  balance,  Silvere  went  headlong  into  the  sea. 

"  Help,  Poidevin  !" 

But  he  was  too  far  away  to  help.  With  a  turn  of 
her  arm,  Elise  made  fast  a  rope  around  her  waist. 

"  Hold  firmly,  men,  and  haul  hard  after  I  have 
dived." 

She  threw  herself  headlong.  The  sailors  hauled 
in  the  rope.  What  a  strange  mass  came  with  her? 
In  the  last  agonies  of  a  drowning  man  Florimond 
had  seized  Silvere  in  a  desperate  clutch.  They 
struggled  hand  to  hand,  one  clutching,  the  other 
pushing  him  off.  In  the  fierceness  of  the  struggle 
they  escaped  from  Elise's  grasp,  and  disappeared 
a  second  time.  She  dived  again.  Slowly  she  came 
back  to  the  surface,  drawn  by  the  rope,  and  drag- 
ging her  burden  with  both  hands. 

"  My  strength  is  all  gone.  Florimond  drags  us 
down." 

Burbot  heard  her  cry.  He  had  recovered  his 
breath,  and  was  swimming  about,  waiting  until  he 
could  be  of  use.  He  dashed  forward,  and,  seizing 
Florimond  by  the  throat,  strangled  him  until  he 
loosed  his  hold. 

Elise  helped  first  Silvere,  then  Florimond,  who, 
in  his  mighty  arms,  convulsively  clutched  Barbet, 
whom  he  half  crushed. 

Elise  dived  again. 

What  could  she  be  searching  for,  now  that  they 


240  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

were  all  safe — Silvere,  Barbet,  and  Florimond  ? 
Did  she  hope  to  recover  the  two  men  of  the  Bon- 
Pfaheur  who  had  fallen,  overcome  by  weakness,  the 
moment  before  the  arrival  of  the  Jeune-AdolpJiine  ? 
Alas,  the  waves  had  swept  them  away  as  they 
pleased  ! 

"  Get  aboard,  Lise.     Your  Barbet  is  badly  hurt." 

"What  is  it?  Misery!  Hurry,  men,  and  pull 
me  in." 

Half  pulled,  half  climbing,  Elise  scrambled  into 
the  boat.  She  found  Barbet  with  rattling  breath, 
his  tongue  hanging  out,  foam  on  his  lips,  and  only 
the  whites  of  his  eyes  visible. 

"  Speak  to  me,  my  old  Barbet.  Tell  me  that  you 
are  not  hurt.  It  would  be  too  hard  to  lose  your 
life  in  saving  those  of  others,  old  Barbet." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

BARBET  was  cared  for  like  a  child.  Stretched  on 
a  soft  bed  of  nets  and  bagging,  he  had  the  bunk  all 
to  himself.  Elise  had  given  it  up  to  him.  Sick 
people  must  have  comforts.  She  herself  slept,  sit- 
ting on  a  box  near  his  bed,  and,  like  a  true  ship- 
mate, took  the  best  care  of  him. 

She  made  endless  dressings  and  cooling  drinks 
for  him.  He  would  turn  his  eye,  lighted  with  the 
wild  gleams  of  fever,  toward  her,  then  his  head  would 
drop  weakly  and  slowly  back. 

"  Get  well  quickly,  my  old  Barbet.  What  will 
Firmin  say  to  see  you  in  this  plight?  He  will  scold 
me  for  having  let  you  get  hurt." 

Barbet  did  not  show  any  interest  at  all  at  the 
name  of  Firmin.  He  was  interested  only  in  the 
things  of  life  that  appealed  to  his  heart.  Was  it 
likely  that  he  would  be  moved  at  the  thought  of  a 
lad  who  cared  more  for  ambition  than  for  friendship. 
He  wished  to  get  well,  truly,  but  only  to  please 
Elise,  whom  he  had  always  loved,  who  loved  him  in 
her  sorrow  as  well  as  in  her  joy,  when  he  was  sick 
and  when  he  was  well  alike. 

He  had  nearly  died,  and  all  through  a  misunder- 
standing. In  throwing  himself  on  Florimond,  he 
had  wanted  simply  to  free  Silvere,  and  make  the 
task  of  saving  him  more  easy.  His  good  intentions 

341 


242  A    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

had  been  badly  repaid,  for  he  had  been  nearly 
throttled  in  a  moment  of  furious  rage  by  the  man 
whom  he  was  trying  to  succor. 

Florimond  himself,  strong  as  always,  had  not  suf- 
fered long  from  the  shock.  He  was  one  of  those 
who  leave  illness  to  others,  and  keep  none  for  them- 
selves, A  night's  rest  made  him  forget  all  his 
bodily  fatigue. 

But  he  did  not  find  it  so  easy  to  forget  his  troubles 
of  mind. 

Not  that  he  was  much  concerned  at  the  loss  of 
his  boat.  He  counted  on  the  insurance  companies 
making  that  good.  Apart  from  his  boat  he  was 
rich.  An  old  aunt,  who  admired  his  strength  and 
beauty,  had  made  him  her  heir.  Since  then  he  had 
been  in  a  position  where  he  not  only  need  not  sail 
himself,  but  might  own  ships  sent  out  in  charge  of 
others.  He  loved  the  sea  so  much  that  he  had  not 
been  able  to  leave  her.  To-day  he  was  tired  of  her. 
He  had  found  out  what  pleasure  she  takes  in  be- 
traying those  upon  whom  she  has  piled  up  her 
favors. 

She  was  the  true  culprit,  and  he  had  had  the 
meanness  to  persecute  another  when  the  fault  had 
been  hers.  Poor  Elise.  He  had  harassed  her  and 
had  accused  her  of  a  betrayal  of  trust,  and  now  he 
knew  that  she  was  innocent.  He  had  caused  her 
great  distress,  and,  for  her  revenge,  she  had  saved 
his  life. 

Without  her  he  would  have  been  drowned,  and, 
from  abyss  to  abyss  in  that  endless  waste  of  waters, 
dragged  down  by  the  weight  of  his  sins,  he  would 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  243 

have  tossed  about  pitilessly  with  staring  eyes,  his 
body  eaten  by  fishes,  his  soul  in  torture.  She  had 
saved  him  not  only  from  death,  but  from  the  pains 
of  expiation. 

Courageous  under  all  circumstances,  forgetful  of 
injuries,  strong  in  her  sacrifice  of  self,  how  had  he 
failed  to  appreciate  her!  Her  heart  was  as  noble  as 
her  face  was  pure.  Was  she  really  to  marry  Sil- 
vere,  a  man  without  shoulders  or  chest,  all  length 
and  no  breadth.  If  he  were  rich  even,  this  big  gull ; 
but  he  was  not  well  enough  off  to  be  even  a  captain. 
His  father  had  made  large  sums  in  his  trade  as  pilot, 
but  unfortunately  he  had  not  managed  well,  for 
they  had  gone  to  assist  his  neighbors,  and  in  kindly 
acts  which  had  not  helped  the  donor. 

Florimond  paced  the  deck  of  \.\\.eJeune-Adolphine, 
full  of  troubled  thoughts.  He  was  tired  to  death 
of  the  forecastle,  the  close  air  distressed  him.  He 
was  at  ease  only  under  the  lash  of  the  breeze,  for 
his  heart  was  full  of  disquiet. 

Sometimes  when  he  met  him  on  the  deck,  so 
overcome  with  melancholy,  Poidevin  would  throw 
him  a  comforting  word. 

"It  is  better  to  drown  your  trouble,  Captain 
Florimond,  than  to  let  it  drown  you.  Come,  the 
jug  of  grog  is  waiting.  It  would  not  be  fair  to  let 
it  go  dry  from  lack  of  notice." 

But  neither  rum  nor  any  other  spirits  could  con- 
sole Florimond.  Poidevin  had  to  drink  alone,  and 
he  did  his  best  at  it,  looking  into  his  mug  for 
good  advice. 

He  had  not  completed  the  cruise ;  that  is  to  say{ 


244  A   FISHER   GIRL  OF  FRANCE. 

all  his  bins  were  not  filled,  but  he  could  not  make 
up  his  mind  whether  he  had  better  head  for  home 
or  not. 

In  looking  for  the  castaways  they  had  lost  the 
herring,  and  had  not  been  able  to  find  them,  al- 
though they  had  tried  thoroughly.  Besides,  in 
spite  of  the  advanced  season,  the  days  were  warm, 
and  the  fish  might  ferment  in  the  hold.  The  first 
week  of  September  had  gone,  the  equinoctial  storms 
were  at  hand.  It  was  the  time  of  the  year  when 
squalls  are  so  common  that  one  meets  them  at  every 
turn.  Decidedly  it  would  be  better  to  save  what 
fish  they  had  and  pass  a  week  ashore.  Such  was 
the  advice  which  the  captain  decided  to  follow  after 
a  whole  day's  session  with  his  mug. 

"  Well,  lads,  the  cruise  is  over.  Tell  the  man  at 
the  wheel  to  head  for  home." 

Elise  was  busy  near  Barbet,  when  she  heard  him 
shout  this  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

She  started  as  she  heard  it.  And  Firmin  ? 
Should  she  not  see  him  again  ?  To  leave  the  Scotch 
seas  was  to  give  up  the  hope  of  meeting  him.  With- 
out stopping  to  think  she  ran  to  Poidevin. 

"  Take  me  first  to  England,  captain,  I  want  to 
see  my  boy." 

Well  as  he  knew  Elise's  plans,  and  thoroughly  as 
he  had  decided  not  to  oppose  them,  at  least  unless 
compliance  with  them  menaced  the  safety  of  the  boat, 
Poidevin  was  stunned  at  her  demand.  He  raised 
his  arms  above  his  head,  and  murmured  some  ill- 
humored  exclamations. 

"  Death  of  my  soul !     You  think  no  more  of  flaunt- 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  245 

ing  your  demands  in  our  faces  than  in  turning  a 
quid  in  your  mouth.  I  should  be  a  fool  to  do  as 
you  wish.  Try  to  meet  your  corvette  on  the  way 
home,  or  you  will  have  no  chance  of  seeing  your 
Firmin.  What  do  you  expect  ?  it  is  the  way  of  our 
trade." 

"  You  must  take  me,  captain  ;  I  came  with  the 
expectation  of  seeing  my  boy.  I  will  not  go  until  I 
have  succeeded  in  my  plan." 

"  By  my  sainted  mother!  " 

Poidevin  turned  his  back  so  angrily  that  Elise 
saw  that  it  was  useless  to  insist.  She  passed  the 
night  near  Barbet,  and  at  dawn  went  on  deck  to 
begin  her  outlook  again. 

Through  constant  watching  her  eyes  had  gained 
an  unusual  power,  so  that  the  most  distant  and  the 
most  fleeting  objects  were  clear  to  them. 

It  was  hardly  four  o'clock.  The  horizon  was  in- 
distinct by  reason  of  a  haze  or  fog.  At  intervals 
she  thought  she  could  make  out  some  black  dots, 
but  they  speedily  disappeared.  Then  more  anx- 
iously than  ever  she  searched  the  great  expanse,  as 
if  at  any  moment  there  might  start  forth  the  well- 
appointed  corvette  she  was  looking  for. 

Elise  thought  sadly  that  over  yonder,  behind  the 
fogs,  was  a  coast  that  now  she  had  no  chance  of 
knowing.  There  were  the  shores  of  Scotland 
stretching  away,  green  under  the  majestic  reaches 
of  ancient  forests.  Scotland,  rich  and  beautiful  as 
a  land  preferred  of  nature,  was  already  far  away; 
for,  for  seven  hours  they  had  sailed  southward  and 
they  had  passed  the  northern  bounds  of  England. 


246  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

Edinburgh  and  Berwick !     Elise  had  given  up  hope 
of  ever  set-ing  them. 

That  night  they  should  reach  the  neighborhood 
of  the  gulf  into  which  the  Thames  pours  its  muddy 
and  impure  waters.  The  air  is  black  with  smoke, 
the  sky  itself  is  darkened.  Its  outlines  cannot  be 
distinguished  from  the  open  sea  because  its  shores 
are  low,  but  it  can  easily  be  known  from  the  num- 
ber of  steamers  inward  bound.  Elise  dreaded  to 
reach  it,  for  once  there,  it  would  be  foolish  to  hope 
any  longer. 

Was  not  that  smoke  on  the  northern  horizon  ? 
No ;  it  was  only  a  flock  of  seagulls  which  had 
waked  with  the  day. 

Misery!  Should  the  big  sister  have  less  courage 
than  her  little  brother?  He  had  discovered  a  way 
of  escape  from  \\\&  flambart,  ought  she  to  hesitate? 
She  would  buy  Poidevin's  small  boat,  paying  for  it 
with  her  nets ;  she  would  take  Silvere,  and  they 
would  row  ashore,  they  two,  and  would  find  Firmin. 

On  government  ships  the  discipline  is  strict  and 
the  officers  are  harsh.  With  his  spirit  of  insubordi- 
nation the  lad  would  suffer ;  he  would  want  his 
sister.  Without  doubt  he  asked  for  her  every 
night  in  his  prayers,  and  was  consumed  with  desire 
to  see  her. 

There  was  no  time  to  lose.  Elise  raised  herself 
to  go  and  strike  a  bargain  with  the  captain.  But 
big  Poidevin  was  still  asleep.  The  night  before  he 
had  had  a  great  orgy  in  the  forecastle,  and  he  had 
drunk  to  his  decision  to  return,  emptying  his  mug 
twice  more  than  usual. 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  247 

No,  it  was  not  a  flight  of  seagulls  which  made 
that  long  trail  in  the  sky.  It  was  really  smoke,  but 
not  so  thick,  heavy,  and  black  as  that  of  the  colliers. 

What  was  the  use  of  hoping  !  It  was  probably  a 
steamer,  like  so  many  others,  sailing  from  some 
English  port.  Poidevin  might  be  angry  if  he 
wished  ;  well,  let  him  be  ;  when  one  wishes  a  thing 
ought  not  one  dare  ask  for  it  ? 

But  this  vessel  really  began  to  look  like  a  cor- 
vette ;  her  outlines  became  distinct.  Through  the 
glass,  which  never  left  her,  Elise  made  out  pres- 
ently three  top-masts  and  their  yards  rising  gradually 
above  the  sea.  The  breeze  was  soft  that  morning, 
and  her  smoke,  which  rose  high  and  straight,  was 
seen  first. 

The  lower  masts  appeared  in  their  turn,  and  at 
last  the  hull  with  her  guns.  It  was  certainly  a  cor- 
vette under  steam  and  sail.  She  was  now  clearly  in 
the  field  of  the  glass.  She  cleft  the  waves  with  her 
graceful  lines,  and  seemed  as  if  following  in  their 
wake  and  in  pursuit  of  them.  In  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  she  would  overtake  the  Jeune-Adolphine. 
It  was  certainly  she  !  French  colors !  Yes  it  was 
she,  and  Firmin  was  aboard. 

She  could  hardly  keep  her  feet,  she  trembled  so 
with  delight.  Suddenly  she  recovered  herself,  and, 
bursting  like  a  puff  of  wind  into  the  forecastle,  cried 
with  the  full  force  of  her  lungs  : 

"  Silvere,  the  corvette  !     We  shall  see  Firmin." 

All  the  sailors  were  roused  from  their  dreams  ; 
Poidevin  alone  snored  on.  Silvere  sprang  to  his  feet 
ready  to  share  the  delight  of  his  betrothed. 


248  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRAKCE. 

"Examine  her  yourself,  Silvere.  I  am  sure  my 
heart  has  not  deceived  me." 

Then  hurriedly  Elise  went  to  the  bunk  where 
Barbet  lay  uncomplainingly. 

"  Our  little  Firmin  is  close  at  hand,  my  old  Bar- 
bet.  If  you  would  only  get  well  quickly  we  should 
be  so  happy,  we  three.  What  makes  you  scowl  so  ? 
It  is  bad  not  to  trust  in  the  love  of  one's  friends. 
I  will  go  away,  you  pain  me." 

Two  light  barks  recalled  Elise.  The  dog  turned 
toward  her  his  mournful  head  and  his  sombre  eyes. 

"  I  forgive  you,  my  old  Barbet.  Sick  people  are 
always  restless  and  full  of  suspicion.  Our  Firmin 
does  not  forget  you." 

And  Elise  laid  her  cheek  softly  against  his  nose. 

"Always  a  warm  nose,  Barbet,  and  always  these 
shivers  !  You  need  land  air  to  set  you  up  again. 
This  time  we  will  go  home  without  any  regrets." 

She  petted  him,  gently  smiling,  stroking  his  head 
where  the  temples  beat  with  fever,  and  his  neck, 
whose  warmth  she  loved,  but  which  was  now  burn- 
ing hot.  She  ran  to  get  a  fresh  draught,  and  care- 
fully and  patiently,  spoonful  by  spoonful,  she  made 
the  sick  dog  drink.  Then  she  dried  his  lips  and  put 
all  her  affection  in  a  good-by  kiss. 

Opening  her  box,  which  lay  in  front  of  the  bunk, 
she  took  out  of  it  her  best  skirt  and  her  most  coquet- 
tish hat,  and  taking  off  her  sou'wester  and  her  oil- 
skin dress,  arrayed  herself  as  if  for  a  high  holiday. 
She  threw  a  last  smile  at  Barbet. 

"  Do  not  be  uneasy,  my  old  Barbet.  I  will  bring 
Firmin  as  soon  as  he  mounts  the  deck." 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  249 

And  while  the  dog  followed  her  with  a  mournful 
look,  as  if  overcome  by  some  dismal  foreboding,  she 
hurried  away.  She  was  up  the  ladder  in  two  bounds, 
and  started  as  she  saw  the  corvette  flying  the  French 
flag  close  to  them.  She  climbed  the  bulwarks 
quickly  and  clung  there,  looking  forFirmin. 

She  saw  him  at  the  very  end  of  the  bowsprit,  with 
nothing  else  to  steady  himself  by  but  the  ropes. 
There  he  stood,  at  least  fifty  feet  away  from  the  deck, 
in  advance  of  the  ship,  as  if  hovering  in  the  air 
above  the  sea.  He  was  like  one  of  those  bold 
figures  which  imagination  gives  as  guides  to  ships 
on  allegorical  voyages. 

Elise  was  so  frightened  that  she  had  to  get  down, 
half  dazed,  from  the  bulwarks  to  the  solid  surface  of 
the  deck. 

It  was  truly  her  lad,  unconscious  of  danger,  as  he 
always  was.  She  did  not  dare  to  make  a  sign  or  utter 
a  word,  for  fear  he  should  be  startled  and  lose  his 
balance.  She  hid  herself  behind  a  corner  of  the 
sail,  and  had  not  yet  regained  her  composure  when 
the  corvette  came  to  leeward  of  the  sloop,  took  in 
sail  so  as  to  fetch  her,  and  began  to  run  alongside 
in  order  to  hail. 

"  Jeune-Adolphine.  Captain  Amable  Poidevin. 
Official  orders ! " 

The  captain,  hastily  forewarned,  appeared  at  that 
moment,  still  half  dazed  with  sleep.  He  announced 
himself  at  once  as  the  captain,  and  the  boat  stopped 
while  the  corvette  came  alongside. 

The  interchange  of  words  between  the  two  boats 
was  short.  A  letter  from  the  maritime  prefect  had 


25°  A    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

arrived  t\vo  days  before  at  the  station  at  Plymouth, 
ordering  them  to  search  in  the  Scotch  seas  for  the 
Jeune-Adolphine,  and  to  transfer  to  her  the  lad  res- 
cued from  the  sea.  This  letter  was  the  result  of 
steps  taken  jointly  by  the  under-commissaires  of 
Treport  and  Saint-Valery.  They  had  joined  forces 
in  order  to  arrange  for  Elise  a  surprise,  and  to  give 
her  the  pleasure  of  bringing  home  her  brother. 

Orders  were  called  out  on  the  deck  of  the  cor- 
vette. 

"  Boatswain  ! " 

An  old  sailor  with  deep  wrinkles  came  for- 
ward. 

"  Bring  the  boy,  Henin." 

On  hearing  this  order,  Elise  could  not  restrain  her- 
self. 

"  Firmin,  my  dear  boy,  my  Firmin,  hurry.  I  can- 
not wait." 

But  when  the  boatswain  came  to  call  him,  Firmin 
steadied  himself  by  the  rope  and  did  not  budge. 

Elise  was  wild  with  impatience. 

"  Firmin,  you  break  my  heart  by  your  delay. 
Come  quickly.  You  will  see  Barbet." 

The  boy  was  obstinate.  Neither  pleasant  nor 
sharp  words  succeeded  in  bringing  him  to  the  deck. 
The  boatswain  ordered  them  to  seize  him.  Two  sail- 
ors sat  astride  the  bowsprit,  and  gradually  worked 
their  way  almost  to  the  rebel.  But  how  were  they  to 
stand  erect  on  this  slippery-pole  hardly  large  enough 
for  the  feet  of  a  bird,  and,  if  once  erect,  how  could 
they  struggle  with  him  without  twenty  times  risking 
a  plunge  into  the  sea  ? 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  251 

The  boy  impassible,  with  a  steady  look  and  per- 
fectly determined,  watched  them  approach. 

He  had  been  told  of  the  orders  which  had  come 
concerning  him,  and  refused  to  leave  the  vessel. 
The  true  life  for  him  was  not  that  of  a  hand  on  one 
of  the  dirty  little  fishing-boats  smelling  of  brine,  but 
that  of  a  sailor  on  a  glittering  ship  odorous  of  pol- 
ished wood. 

This  new  life  so  full  of  hope,  this  future  of  riches 
and  glory,  had  opened  to  him.  He  did  not  wish  to 
see  his  sister  yet  ;  he  had  sworn  not  to  return  until 
he  had  won  the  lace  of  a  quartermaster. 

But  the  corvette  could  not  lie  there  at  the  caprice 
of  a  lad.  After  long  consultations  among  the  offi- 
cers, a  topman  climbed  to  that  point  on  the  mast 
whence  a  cable  runs  to  the  very  end  of  the  bowsprit. 

Then,  without  hesitation,  without  even  considering 
the  danger,  he  swung  himself  from  the  cable,  and 
hand  underhand  he  descended  it  slowly  and  evenly, 
so  that  Firmin  should  not  suspect  his  coming. 

The  sailors  who  had  seen  the  maneuver  made 
as  if  to  attack  Firmin,  in  order  to  keep  him  on 
guard.  He  had  his  eye  on  them,  ready  to  take  the 
defensive. 

Not  a  sound.  On  the  two  boats  all  the  men 
were  watching,  their  eyes  opened,  their  lips  closed, 
in  their  excitement. 

The  topman,  keeping  steadily  on,  was  approaching 
without  being  seen.  Two  fathoms  more,  and  the 
boy  was  taken. 

Through  the  deep  silence,  like  the  trail  of  a 
rocket,  came  a  long,  strident  cry : 


25 2  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

"Watch  the  top,  my  little  man " 

A  cry  which  broke  in  on  the  stupor  of  officers  and 
men,  and  reverberated,  with  echo  after  echo,  far 
across  the  sea.  "  Watch  the  top,  my  little  man." 

Overtaxed  by  waiting,  and  excited  by  anxiety  for 
her  boy,  Elise  had  unconsciously  shouted  out  a 
sister's  warning. 

While  the  sailor  stopped,  astonished,  Firmin 
raised  his  head  and  saw  him  close  at  hand. 

He  did  not  give  even  a  start  of  surprise.  Quickly 
and  resolutely,  for  he  was  determined  to  escape, 
seeing  himself  cut  off  in  front  and  above,  he  flat- 
tened himself  on  the  bowsprit  and  slipped  down  one 
of  the  cables  stretched  beneath  it.  He  hoped  to 
reach  the  figure-head  of  Fortune,  and  there  to  find 
refuge  from  his  pursuers  on  her  breast,  as  on  that  of 
a  protecting  divinity. 

Unfortunately,  in  his  haste  he  made  a  false  move, 
lost  his  balance,  and  disappeared  under  the  waves. 

A  cry  of  terror  re-echoed  from  the  deck  of  the 
Jeune-Adolphine  like  the  cry  of  a  mother  in  distress. 

But  at  that  very  moment  a  boat  appeared  from 
the  other  side  of  the  corvette,  just  in  time  to  seize 
Firmin,  as  he  came  to  the  surface,  and  row  him  to  the 
Jeune-Adolphine.  Two  sailors  caught  him  under  the 
arms,  and  made  a  rope  fast  around  him. 

"  Hoist  him  up  !  " 

Misery  !  As  they  were  lifting  him  he  managed  to 
slip  from  the  rope,  fell  back  into  the  water,  and  dis- 
appeared from  sight  between  the  boat  and  the  ship. 

"  Seize  him  quick.     He  cannot  swim." 


"CALM  YOURSELF,  ELISE.WE  SHOULD  MAKE  THE  OTHERS  LAUGH." 
Chap.  27. 


A    FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  253 

What  was  Elise  saying — He  not  swim  !  The 
scamp,  he  could  swim  like  a  porpoise!  He  passed 
under  the  boat,  reached  the  corvette,  scaled  her 
ladder,  and  was  on  the  deck  he  loved. 

"  Captain,  keep  me.     I  want  to  become  an  officer." 

The  captain  called  Elise,  and  they  began  talking 
again.  The  letter  of  the  maritime  prefect  was  only 
mandatory  on  one  point.  It  directed  that  the  boy 
should  be  taken  to  his  sister,  and  this  had  been  done. 
If  now  Elise  would  consent  to  his  enlisting,  they 
would  keep  her  brother  on  board.  He  was  cut  out 
for  a  good  sailor.  It  was  a  pity  to  deprive  the  coun- 
try of  his  services. 

"Come,  my  daughter,  decide." 

Her  eyes  full  of  tears,  her  head  drooping,  her 
voice  nearly  undistinguishable,  Elise  gave  her  con- 
sent. 

"  Captain,  it  shall  be  as  you  wish,  only  let  me 
embrace  him." 

At  last  she  pressed  to  her  breast  her  lost  child, 
the  child  she  loved.  What  a  flood  of  caresses,  and 
what  feverish  kisses,  she  bestowed  upon  him. 

"  Firmin,  my  sweet  little  man,  you  are  always 
beautiful.  I  tremble  with  happiness  at  seeing  you." 

"  Calm  yourself,  Elise,  you  will  make  the  others 
laugh  at  us." 

"  Have  no  fear.  One  does  not  laugh  at  those  who 
love  one  another.  Let  me  look  at  you." 

"  Look,  instead,  how  everything  shines  on  a  big 
ship." 

"  It  is  your  eyes  that  shine.  I  have  no  fancy  for 
any  other  gleams." 


254  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

"  And  see  how  trim  everything  is,  and  how  strong 
the  rigging." 

"  What  do  I  care  ?  It  is  only  you  that  I  wish  to 
admire — a  long  look,  a  long  look,  so  that  I  may  carry 
you  away  in  my  soul  and  eyes  at  least." 

"  Calm  yourself,  Lise.  We  shall  meet  again  later 
on.  I  shall  have  won  my  rank.  You  will  be 
proud." 

"  Oh,  no !  Such  gains  are  made  at  too  great  a 
cost.  Since  we  were  born,  we  have  never  been 
separated." 

"  Elise,  do  go.  You  will  make  me  lose  my  chance 
of  being  an  officer.  The  captain  will  take  back  his 
word.  There  is  an  end  to  his  patience." 

And  Firmin  pushed  his  sister  to  the  ship's  side, 
where  the  ladder  was  fixed. 

"  Do  go  !  " 

Elise  was  overcome.  She  had  had  too  many 
blows.  She  could  restrain  no  longer  the  beating  of 
her  heart.  Choking  as  she  was,  she  forced  herself 
to  say  good-by. 

"  I  am  going,  captain.     Be  good  to  him." 

She  did  not  know  how  she  got  back  to  the  Jeune- 
Adolphine.  She  seemed  deaf  even  to  the  voice  of 
Firmin,  who  cried  gayly: 

"  Good-by,  Elise  !  You  will  see  me  with  stripes 
on  my  sleeves." 

She  passed  without  speaking  before  Silvere, 
Florimond,  and  Poidevin,  and  all  the  sailors  grouped 
together,  and  walked  rigidly  to  the  forecastle.  But 
she  had  barely  reached  there  when  her  self-control 
gave  way,  and  she  threw  herself  on  her  box.  With 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  255 

her  head  resting  on  the  edge  of  the  bunk,  she  wept 
beside  Barbet. 

"  My  old  Barbet,  he  does  not  love  us  any  more; 
he  has  never  loved  us.  He  did  not  even  speak  of 
you,  old  Barbet." 

With  a  look  in  which  shone  his  tender  heart,  Bar- 
bet  seemed  to  say: 

"  Friend,  he  must  suffer  who  loves  too  well.  If 
the  affection  of  any  one  else  can  console  you,  be 
sure  of  mine.  It  is  yours  for  life  and  death.  Friend, 
there  is  still  one  who  cherishes  and  adores  you  ;  your 
big  Silvere,  who  knows  not  how  to  tell  his  love,  but 
can  prove  it.  Do  you  not  see  him  silent  and  sad 
behind  you.  He  weeps  at  your  tears,  and  his  heart 
beats  in  sympathy  with  yours.  His  arms  are  open, 
tell  your  sorrows  to  him.  Is  not  a  friend's  heart  a 
refuge  for  all  who  are  wounded  by  ingratitude?" 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

SINCE  morning  the  Jetme-AdolpJiine  had  been  in 
the  Channel.  It  was  her  last  night  at  sea,  for  the 
next  day  at  the  evening  tide  she  ought  to  be  fast  at 
the  quay  at  Dieppe,  whither  she  was  bound  to  sell 
her  fish. 

Elise  had  been  ordered  to  the  helm  during  the 
second  watch.  Silvere  had  wanted  to  take  her  place. 
Since  she  had  been  so  unhappy  he  had  become  more 
attentive,  had  spared  her  fatigue,  had  watched  over 
her,  and  had  anticipated  her  wants.  Alas  !  she  had 
no  wants.  She  was  wrapt  in  an  indifference  born  of 
grief.  He  did  not  leave  her;  he  comforted  her  by 
his  affectionate  glances  and  by  that  silent  sympathy 
of  which  delicate  natures  know  the  secret. 

What  could  he  say?  He  had  tried  to  speak  of 
Firmin,  but  it  awakened  all  her  grief  and  she  had 
burst  into  tears.  He  had  ended  by  following  her 
about  like  a  faithful  dog,  as  Barbet  would  have  fol- 
lowed her  if  he  had  not  been  ill. 

This  community  of  suffering  had  made  Silvere 
pale,  so  greatly  had  all  these  wakeful  nights  told 
upon  him.  Big  men  cannot  endure  a  long  strain. 
Elise  now,  not  only  refused  fresh  help  from  him, 
but  for  the  last  few  nights,  by  her  entreaties,  had 
made  him  take  his  usual  sleep.  She  herself  was 
lying  down  for  the  first  time  since  Barbet  was  ill, 

256 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  257 

and  was  dreaming  of  Firmin  when  the  summons  to 
the  deck  brought  her  back  from  the  happy  vision. 

She  was  never  late  at  her  post.  Without  troub- 
ling her  head  about  her  companion  of  the  watch,  who 
was  slower  to  wake,  she  hurried  on  deck  to  relieve 
the  man  at  the  wheel. 

It  was  nearly  the  end  of  the  full  moon  and  the 
night  was  clear,  though  at  times  thick,  slow-moving 
clouds  hid  the  sky  for  long  intervals.  When  Elise 
heard  the  closing  of  the  hatch  she  could  not  tell 
which  of  the  men  came  out.  Whoever  it  was,  he 
would  be  her  only  companion  for  several  hours,  for 
in  light  breezes  two  were  enough  to  watch  the 
boat. 

Elise  heard  his  steps  in  the  bow  as  he  went  to 
take  his  place  as  lookout. 

The  weather  was  a  little  uncertain.  At  times  one 
of  the  heavy  clouds  would  send  down  a  fine  warm 
rain  on  the  boat,  and  it  was  for  that  reason  that  they 
had  taken  the  precaution  to  close  the  hatch. 

There  was  a  kind  of  languor  in  the  air.  Notwith- 
standing her  accustomed  vigor  Elise  was  depressed. 
She  was  tired,  body  and  soul,  but  under  a  presenti- 
ment of  coming  trouble  she  threw  it  off  and  held 
herself  ready  for  action. 

In  spite  of  the  darkness  of  the  night  she  had  a 
vague  intuition  that  the  figure,  which  she  had  hardly 
seen,  was  that  of  Florimond.  What  was  he  going 
to  do,  and  what  new" fancy  led  him  to  take  the  place 
of  one  of  the  men?  Since  he  had  come  on  the 
Jeune-Adolphine  he  had  not  once  offered  to  help  in 
handling  her.  He  had  always  preserved  his  dignity 


258  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

as  captain  before  the  crew,  and  here  he  was  this 
night  taking  the  place  of  a  common  sailor. 

Was  it  really  he  ?  In  order  to  know  certainly, 
and  to  recognize  the  man  by  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
Elise  gave  the  usual  call : 

"  Keep  your  eyes  open  there,  in  the  bow." 

There  was  no  response. 

"  Who  is  on  the  lookout  ?  " 

No  answer. 

"Is  it  not  you,  Cousin  Florimond  ?" 

Then,  suddenly,  she  nearly  let  go  the  tiller.  The 
heavy  clouds  had  parted  and  the  moon  shone  clear 
through  their  rents.  In  the  sudden  light  Elise  saw 
Florimond  close  to  her.  He  was  bent  double  and 
was  sneaking  along  in  the  shelter  of  the  bulwarks. 

Then,  in  spite  of  herself,  she  was  afraid.  She  re- 
membered the  day  when,  face  to  face  with  him  in 
the  capstan  hatch,  he  had  been  so  violent. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Cousin  Florimond  ? 
I  have  not  made  you  angry  again,  I  suppose." 

He  stood  erect  ;  he  nearly  touched  her  hand. 
At  that  moment  the  silvery  rays  shone  on  the  sail 
behind  him,  and  his  huge  broad  figure  stood  out 
grandly  against  its  white  background. 

Around  him  on  the  deck  everything  was  hidden 
in  the  shadow.  He  looked  almost  more  than  human. 
His  chest  curved  outward  between  his  arms  squarely 
set  on  his  shoulders.  His  neck,  with  its  strong 
cords,  supported  his  head  proudly.  His  face  was 
strong,  notwithstanding  its  pure  oval.  He  was  not 
terrible,  he  was  beautiful. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me,  Cousin  Florimond  ? 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  259 

If  I  can  grant  it,  I  could  never  have  the  heart  to  re- 
fuse." 

"  I  want  your  promise  to  marry  me,  Lise.  You 
are  the  cleverest  of  the  village  girls,  and  I  am  the 
strongest  of  the  men.  We  would  make  a  fine 
couple,  we  two." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  cousin  ?  I  am  not  worth  your 
notice." 

"  You  saved  me  from  the  sea.  You  are  the  most 
daring  of  any  of  the  girls." 

"  I  am  only  a  poor  lass,  and  not  made  for  riches, 
like  you." 

"  You  are  made  for  me  and  I  want  you.  I  should 
never  find  any  one  who  would  do  me  more  credit." 

"  Why  do  you  want  me  ?  You  do  not  like  me  at 
all." 

"  I  owe  you  my  life.     I  want  to  pay  my  debt." 

"  We  will  talk  later  on.  This  is  not  the  time  for 
it.  Leave  me  to  mind  the  helm." 

"  Listen,  Elise,  I  want  you.  I  believe  that  any 
man  might  be  proud  to  marry  you." 

In  Florimond's  eyes  Elise  caught  the  jealous 
gleams  which  she  feared.  From  the  start,  she  had 
tried  to  refuse  him  without  speaking  of  her  engage- 
ment. She  knew  intuitively  that  she  had  but  to 
mention  Silvere's  name  to  rouse  the  jealousy  of  the 
proud  captain  who  had  so  suddenly  become  his 
rival. 

She  made  another  attempt  to  avoid  a  clash. 

"  Return  to  your  post,  Cousin  Florimond.  If 
there  should  be  a  collision  we  should  be  to  blame." 

"  The  other  boats  can  look  out  for  us." 


260  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

"  We  will  watch  all  the  same.     It  is  our  duty." 

"  You  wish  to  put  me  off,  Lise.  Do  you  not  know 
me  yet?  If  it  is  your  Silvere  who  is  in  the  way  of 
your  marrying  me,  he  can  look  out  for  squalls." 

"  Why  do  you  threaten  him  ?  Has  he  ever  done 
you  any  harm  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  great  soft,  half-coward." 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  is  braver  and  more  generous 
than  any  one." 

She  stopped,  confused  at  this  outburst,  in  which 
her  heart  had  spoken  in  spite  of  her  lips. 

She  was  not  afraid  for  herself,  for  she  did  not  be- 
lieve her  sturdy  cousin  would  do  a  mean  act.  She 
had  known  him  when  he  was  a  child,  the  most  beau- 
tiful child  in  the  village,  and  had  seen  him  grow  up 
to  be  the  handsomest  man.  She  knew  that  he  was 
conceited,  violent,  and  inconsiderate  of  others,  but 
she  thought  these  were  the  traits  of  strong  charac- 
ters. She  endowed  him  with  manly  virtues,  she 
thought  him  brave  and  incapable  of  common 
crimes. 

Nevertheless,  she  was  uneasy  on  Silvere's  account, 
for  he  was  not  the  kind  of  man  to  tolerate  a  rival, 
and  foreseeing  a  quarrel  between  them  she  resolved 
to  turn  his  anger  on  herself. 

"  Take  your  post,  Cousin  Florimond." 

"  No  !  Give  up  Silvere.  He  is  too  lazy  for 
you." 

And  Cousin  Florimond  squared  himself  firmly  on 
his  legs  as  if  to  make  the  contrast  between  them 
more  forcible. 

"Go!  Cousin  Florimond." 


A   FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  26 1 

"  Give  him  up,  tonnerre!  " 

"Never!  I  have  given  him  my  word." 

"  So  much  the  worse.     It  will  cost  you  dear." 

"  It  will  not  cost  me  enough  to  make  me  break 
it." 

"  It  will  cost  you  your  lover,  Lise.  Can  he  hold 
his  own  against  me  ?  " 

"  You  have  no  right  to  quarrel  with  me  about 
him.  When  you  despised  me,  he  alone  stood  by 
me.  I  should  be  unnatural  if  I  were  to  forget  his 
Kindness.  Take  your  post  again,  Cousin  Flori- 
mond.  Silvere  has  my  word,  and  he  will  have  it  as 
long  as  I  live." 

"  Enough.  Tonnerre  !  You  are  playing  a  game 
to  make  me  fall  in  love  with  you." 

"  He  protected  me  against  all  the  villagers.  He 
has  a  good  heart  and  kindly  ways.  Do  not  speak  to 
me  of  marriage.  He  has  given  me  his  love.  I  have 
given  him  mine." 

"  Hold  your  tongue.  Are  you  trying  to  make  me 
kill  him?" 

"  He  is  not  afraid  of  you  in  the  least,  Cousin  Flor- 
imond.  He  has  faced  stronger  men  than  you,  and, 
since  you  have  no  gratitude  for  what  he  has  done 
for  you,  I  will  talk  to  you  as  you  deserve.  You  are 
a  better-looking  man,  but  your  face  is  disfigured  by 
passion.  You  ask  my  love,  but  you  get  only  my 
contempt.  Do  not  speak  to  me  !  Do  not  speak  to 
me!" 

Florimond  stepped  toward  her  threateningly. 

"  You  are  too  free  with  your  tongue  to-night, 
Elise.  You  are  trying  to  find  out  what  one  gets 


262  A   FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

who  braves  me.  For  the  last  time  I  say  it,  give 
up  Silvere." 

"  No,  I  love  him." 

"  Look  out,  then  !  Tonnerre  !  You've  brought 
it  on  yourself,  girl." 

And  Florimond  threw  himself  heavily  on  Elise, 
crushing  her  with  his  sinewy  ringers. 

"  Are  you  trying  to  kill  me,  because  I  would  not 
tell  a  lie?" 

"  Give  him  up  !" 

"  Never,  Cousin  Florimond." 

"  Hold  your  tongue  !  I  do  not  know  myself ! 
You  shall  give  him  up  !  Tonnerre!  Give  him  up, 
I  say ! " 

Not  being  able  to  force  Elise  to  her  knees,  he 
took  a  step  backward  to  make  a  fresh  attack. 

"  No !     Never — never — never !  " 

During  the  instant  that  she  was  free  she  had 
picked  up  something — anything  to  defend  herself 
with,  and  handled  it  dexterously. 

"Help,  Silvere  !     Help,  Poidevin  !     Help,  all  !  " 

In  an  instant  Florimond  was  on  his  back,  pinned 
to  the  ground  by  two  hands  and  two  knees,  which 
held  him  in  spite  of  himself.  He  fought  des- 
perately, he  breathed  hard,  and  the  shock,  as  his 
back  was  forced  down  again  and  again  to  the  deck, 
fairly  made  it  tremble.  He  sputtered  with  rage. 
All  the  sailors  came  running,  one  after  the  other, 
and  bi<;  Poidevin  with  them,  puffing  like  a  drunkard 
waked  too  soon. 

Pale,  and  overcome  with  surprise  and  fright,  the 
panic-stricken  crowd  stood  there  with  wide-open 


SHE   HAD   PICKED   UV   SOMETHING — ANYTHING — TO  DEFEND  HERSELF. 


Chap.    28. 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  263 

eyes,  looking  about  to  see  if  it  was  some  strange 
nightmare  which  had  brought  them,  only  half 
awake,  on  deck. 

"Do  not  let  -him  go,  Silvere.  He  will  do  some 
harm." 

The  sailors  stood  about,  not  daring  to  come  near, 
and  fearing  even  to  touch  this  man,  who  had  so 
strangely  broken  in  on  their  sleep. 

Barbet  had  wakened  them.  Stretched  at  length, 
without  strength,  unable  to  lift  himself,  but  feverishly 
anxious,  and  hearing  perhaps  through  the  closed 
hatch  Elise's  troubled  voice,  he  had  whined,  but  the 
sleeping  ears  were  deaf.  Then,  with  a  last  effort, 
he  had  howled  loud  enough  to  wake  at  once  all 
these  snorers  out  of  their  heavy  sleep. 

And  they  had  all  rushed  out,  Silvere  first,  as  he 
thought  of  his  betrothed.  It  was  he  who  had 
thrown  Florimond  down  and  was  now  holding  him 
fast. 

He  had  a  strong  grip,  this  big  fellow.  His 
timidity  and  his  good-nature  made  him  seem  un- 
certain and  weak.  He  was  so  bashful  with  women 
that  he  hardly  dared  to  look  into  their  eyes,  and 
when  he  approached  Elise  he  made  himself  gentle, 
as  if  to  touch  a  child.  But  he  was  terrible  at  a 
time  like  this,  when  he  was  angry  at  men  like  him- 
self. Under  his  firm  hold  it  went  hard  with 
Florimond. 

"  Tie  him  up,"  said  Poidevin  suddenly.  "  We  can- 
not arrange  a  guard  of  men  to  watch  him  all  the 
time." 

On  shipboard   they  have  a  liking  for  summary 


264  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

measures.  It  is  the  easiest  way  to  secure  the  safety 
of  the  boat  against  mutineers.  The  sailors  urged 
on  Silvere,  and  among  them  the  survivors  of  the 
Bon-P£cheur,  old  Quarrelsome  and 'the  Stutterer, 
were  the  most  furious. 

"  He  is  strangling  already.  Finish  him,  once  for 
all,  Silvere." 

Then  Elise  forced  her  way  through  the  men  to 
where  Florimond  lay,  and  set  him  free. 

"  I  do  not  want  any  one  to  be  hurt  on  my  account. 
Take  your  place  again,  cousin.  I  will  go  back  to 
the  helm,  and  Silvere  will  protect  me." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"  DRINK,  I  beg  you,  my  old  Barbet.  Listen  to 
your  Elise.  Drink  a  little — very  slowly — but  at 
least  drink.  You  are  all  cold.  It  will  warm  you, 
old  Barbet." 

She  offered  him  some  drops  of  brandy  in  the 
palm  of  her  hand.  He  paid  no  attention  to  it. 
His  lips  were  closed  and  shrivelled,  a  very  bad  sign. 
On  her  return  from  the  watch  Elise  had  found  him 
lying  stiff  and  without  breath,  as  if  his  soul  had 
passed  in  his  last  cry  of  distress. 

"You  are  just  as  you  were  at  first,  but  you  will 
get  better  now,  as  you  did  then.  If  you  will  drink 
you  will  get  well,  my  old  Barbet." 

He  lay  motionless,  and  Elise  watched  him  and 
wept. 

Poidevin  was  snoring:  all  the  men  were  asleep 
again.  Florimond  was  seated  on  a  box  in  the  dark- 
est corner  of  the  room,  half  asleep,  but  the  furrows 
in  his  forehead,  his  compressed  lips,  and  the  twitch- 
ings  of  his  arms  betrayed  the  feverish  desire  for 
vengeance  which  filled  his  whole  being.  Silvere 
alone  watched  by  Elise's  side. 

He  seized  Barbet's  jaws  with  his  two  hands  and 
tried  with  all  his  might  to  unlock  them.  The  lips 
opened  a  little  and  through  them  Elise  succeeded 

265 


266  A    FISHER   GIRI.    OF  FRANCE. 

in  slipping  some  drops  of  cordial,  but  they  did  not 
produce  a  single  tremor. 

"  It  is  not  true.  It  is  not  true,"  she  cried,  and 
from  that  moment  she  did  not  leave  Barbet  until 
they  were  in  port. 

It  was  to  Dieppe  that  the  Jeune-Adolphine  had 
come  to  leave  her  fish.  While  the  men  hurried  to 
the  nearest  tavern,  Elise  made  her  way  to  the  town 
with  Barbet  in  her  arms. 

She  had  sent  Silvere  to  the  sanitary  bureau  to 
get  the  addresses  of  doctors,  and  the  agent,  think- 
ing that  it  was  some  man  who  was  ill,  had  given 
him  those  of  the  principal  physicians. 

On  seeing  the  curious  patient  they  brought,  one 
laughed,  another  was  angry,  and  all  sent  Elise 
mournfully  away  without  advice.  From  street  to 
street  she  carried  the  dog,  mounting  the  steps  in 
vain,  for  everywhere  she  received  the  same  re- 
fusal. 

Finally,  the  servant  of  one  of  these  doctors,  an 
old  woman  who  had  more  feeling  than  the  younger 
ones,  told  Elise  of  a  man  thoroughly  skilled  in  the 
care  of  beasts,  who  lived  between  the  town  and  the 
open  fields,  in  a  place  sheltered  from  the  sea  winds, 
where  there  was  fresh  air  and  grass. 

"  It  will  be  fine  for  you  here,  my  Barbet,"  said 
Elise  as  she  reached  the  door,  "  but  can  I  have  the 
heart  to  leave  you?" 

Barbet  did  not  answer.  His  head  swung  help- 
lessly over  Elise's  arm,  his  glassy  eyes  could  not 
speak.  The  opinion  was  not  favorable.  The  veter- 


A   FISHER  GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  267 

inary  made  his  diagnosis,  screwing  up  his  mouth 
and  nodding  his  head. 

"  He  is  dead.  Leave  him.  I  will  bury  him  to- 
morrow." 

"Are  you  crazy,  sir?  Bury  Barbet !  As  if  one 
could  find  another  friend  like  him  !  I  would  give  my 
life  for  him,  just  as  he  would  give  his  for  me." 

"  It  would  be  of  no  use.  If  he  is  not  dead  he  is 
the  same  as  dead.  He  will  be  underground  before 
two  days." 

"  Oh,  no,  sir!  You  will  find  out  how  to  make  him 
well,  for  you  are  a  doctor.  I  will  pay  all  expenses. 
The  herring  has  furnished — 

She  put  Barbet  quickly  into  Silvere's  arms,  and, 
drawing  from  under  her  skirt  a  canvas  bag,  held  it 
up  for  the  veterinary  to  see. 

"  The  sale  of  the  fish"  will  fill  it.  There  will  be 
enough  to  pay  you  for  curing  Barbet." 

Silvere  interrupted,  to  promise  still  more. 

"You  are  a  couple  of  innocents,"  said  the  veter- 
inary rudely.  "  Leave  the  dog  with  me." 

"  You  will  take  me  to  board,  too,  sir.  I  am  easy 
to  please." 

It  was  hard  work  to  convince  Elise  that  a  hospital 
for  animals  was  not  a  tavern  ;  the  dog  only  was 
taken.  Fortunately  there  was  an  inn  not  faraway, 
and  Elise  engaged  a  bed.  She  was  going  to  live 
there  during  the  time  it  took  to  sell  and  deliver  the 
herrings. 

She  came  hourly  to  the  hospital  door,  rang  the 
bell  boldly,  troubling  the  concierge  and  the  servants, 
and  even  the  master,  to  get  news  of  Barbet.  They 


268  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

refused  her  entrance  under  the  plea  of  interfering 
with  his  recovery,  but  she  was  so  importunate  that 
the  surgeon  ended  by  being  interested  in  a  dog 
which  was  the  object  of  so  firm  a  friendship.  And 
so  Barbet  was  saved.  He  was  on  the  high  way  to 
recovery  when  the  Jeune-AdolpJiine  sailed.  After 
a  more  careful  and  patient  examination  than  he 
usually  gave  his  patients,  the  veterinary  had  discov- 
ered the  state  of  the  injury,  applied  the  right  rem- 
edy and  a  solid  dressing ;  then  he  had  turned  the 
animal  over  to  Elise,  dismissing  her  with  a  crabbed 
good  nature  when  she  was  persistent  in  trying  to 
pay  for  his  care.  She  was  carried  away  with  de- 
light. 

"  I  was  sure  I  should  rescue  you  from  death,  my 
old  Barbet.  When  we  fight  for  our  friends,  we  are 
strong  against  evil." 

The  Jeune-Adolphine  was  sailing  briskly  toward 
her  port.  Barbet  preferred  the  deck.  He  was  in  the 
bow,  stretched  on  a  pile  of  nets  and  mops,  and  it  was 
thence  that,  six  hours  after  leaving  Dieppe,  he  saw 
again  the  well-known  bay,  with  its  gray  outlines 
softened  away  into  fog.  Elise  was  near  him.  She 
lifted  his  head  gently,  and  from  afar  he  made  out 
the  white  houses  of  the  town  behind  the  red  sands 
of  the  dunes.  As  he  saw  these  dear  sights,  his  eye, 
so  long  bright  with  fever,  recovered  its  limpid 
serenity. 

The  sun  was  just  setting  when  the  Jeune-Adol- 
phine appeared  in  the  harbor.  She  had  been  sig- 
nalled a  half  hour  before,  on  entering  the  channel, 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  269 

and  all  those  whose  happiness  was  at  risk  with  her, 
were  waiting  on  the  pier,  impatient  for  her  landing. 
Elise  and  Silvere  saw  Mother  Pilote  and  good 
Mother  Loirat.  They  threw  toward  them  a  long, 
joyful  cry — a  cry  of  home-coming,  the  lightest  and 
most  joyous  of  those  which  escape  the  human 
breast. 

They  were  to  have  a  week  on  shore,  and  Elise 
passed  it  in  her  cabin,  caring  for  Barbet.  She  had 
signed  for  the  whole  campaign,  and  could  not  think 
of  breaking  her  engagement.  Barbet  was  too  weak 
yet  to  take  up  life  on  shipboard  again,  and  their 
separation  was  close  at  hand,  for  the  Jeune-Adol- 
phine  was  to  sail  in  two  days. 

Elise  was  all  the  while  in  tears.  She  did  not  dare 
to  leave  the  dog  to  Mother  Pilote,  who  could  not 
be  depended  on  to  watch  a  sick  person.  She  wished 
to  leave  him  with  Chretien. 

Chretien  had  not  gone  to  sea  again.  He  had 
yielded  to  the  wishes  of  Mother  Loirat,  who  had 
been  so  greatly  aged  by  her  recent  shock  that  she 
preferred  poverty  to  being  left  alone.  He  fished 
from  the  beach,  according  to  the  season.  It  was  a 
wretched  occupation,  but  a  safe  one  at  least. 

Since  Elise  had  returned  home  he  often  made  his 
way  to  her  cabin.  He  would  reach  the  house  and 
watch  her  through  the  windows  a  long  time  before 
he  knocked.  As  soon  as  he  was  within  he  would 
seat  himself  and  remain  an  hour  or  two  without  say- 
ing anything,  simply  following  her  with  his  childlike 
look. 


27°  A    FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE. 

He  had  been  there  since  noon,  sitting  in  a  corner 
of  the  cabin,  and  more  restless  and  more  silent  than 
ever  before.  His  eyes,  naturally  so  quiet,  were 
lighted  at  intervals  by  strange  gleams.  He  fixed 
them  longingly  on  the  bridal  bouquet,  which,  on  the 
sideboard  under  a  glass  globe,  shone  brilliantly  with 
its  leaves  of  gold  paper.  Then  he  turned  them  to 
Elise  as  if  in  some  secret  trouble. 

"  What  is  it,  Chretien  ?  tell  me.  Perhaps  I  may 
be  able  to  comfort  you." 

She  had  no  reply.  She  saw  him  look  more  earn- 
estly than  before  at  the  bouquet,  and  then  glance  at 
her  with  a  sort  of  sweet  supplication.  He  seemed 
so  sad,  and  to  desire  it  so  much,  that  she  was  not 
able  to  resist  the  pleasure  of  granting  his  silent 
prayer. 

She  ran  to  the  sideboard,  lifted  the  globe,  took 
the  bouquet,  and,  blowing  the  dust  off  the  leaves, 
broke  off  the  brightest  and  gave  it  to  the  young  man. 

"They  say  that  it  brings  luck  to  lovers.  Have 
you  then  a  promise,  Chretien  ?  " 

"  I  shall  never  marry." 

"  What  are  you  saying  ?  You  are  especially  made 
for  home  life." 

"  No.  I  cannot  hope  to  be  happy,  for  you  are  to 
marry  another.  I  shall  at  least  have  the  pleasure  of 
dying  for  you." 

Elise  was  sitting  by  Barbet,  and  as  she  talked  she 
was  running  her  fingers  through  his  long  hair,  all 
tangled  like  that  of  a  sick  person.  At  Chretien's 
word,  she  rose  in  surprise,  and  withdrew  her  hand  so 
suddenly  that  she  pulled  out  a  tuft.  Barbet  did  not 


A    FISHER   GIRL    OF'  FRANCE.  27J 

cry  out,  but  he  was  not  able  to  repress  a  little 
whimper  of  pain. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  I  hurt  you,  my  old  Barbet  ? 
You  made  me  do  it,  Chretien,  with  your  gloomy 
talk." 

And  leaning  toward  the  dog,  she  petted  him  con- 
solingly. 

Their  confidential  talk  once  broken,  Chretien  had 
not  another  word  to  say.  He  stayed  a  long  time, 
abstracted  and  quiet,  then,  toward  night,  he  went 
out,  throwing  at  Elise  a  long  look  of  farewell. 

"  Chretien,  where  are  you  going  ?     Tell  me." 

He  was  already  some  distance  away.  She  fol- 
lowed him  with  her  eyes  for  some  seconds.  He 
went  toward  the  dunes  by  the  road  that  led  to  the 
graveyard.  Elise  returned  to  Barbet  and  kissed  his 
forehead. 

"  Do  not  be  restless,  Barbet.  Chretien  had  a 
strange  look  about  him.  I  want  to  find  out  what  he 
is  going  over  there  for." 

She  went  out  hastily  and  ran,  for  he  was  out  of 
sight.  She  did  not  catch  sight  of  him  again  until 
after  she  had  climbed  the  top  of  the  dune.  He  was 
not  alone.  As  nearly  as  she  could  distinguish  in  the 
twilight,  Florimond  and  big  Poidevin  were  with  him. 

Nothing  is  so  depressing  as  the  coming  of  night. 
Oppressed  with  forebodings,  Elise  quickened  her 
pace.  What  could  bring  them  there,  those  three, 
so  late,  on  this  gloomy  road  ?  Could  what  she  feared 
be  true  ? 

It  was  altogether  improbable,  she  said  ;  but  the 
further  she  went  the  stronger  grew  her  fears. 


272  A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

She  recalled  the  strange  actions  of  Cousin  Flori- 
mond  during  the  last  few  days.  He  was  not  a  man 
to  acknowledge  defeat,  and  since  his  return  he  had 
renewed  his  attentions  to  her  and  his  threats.  He 
took  advantage  of  the  absence  of  Silvere,  who  had 
gone  some  distance  into  the  country  to  announce 
his  approaching  wedding  to  some  old  relatives,  and 
was  delayed  by  business.  But  contrary  to  Flori- 
mond's  expectations  he  had  met  a  new  champion  of 
Elise's  rights,  for  Chretien  had  been  only  too  happy 
to  take  up  the  duty  of  protecting  her,  if  only  for  a 
week. 

Had  the  two  men  quarrelled  ?  At  the  very 
thought  Elise  trembled  with  fear.  She  knew  how 
all  these  sailors'  duels  ended — duels  with  knives  and 
without  mercy. 

She  thought  she  should  faint  when  she  saw  the 
three  figures  disappear  suddenly  in  the  Crow's  Hole. 
They  usually  fought  therein  the  ditch,  the  better  to 
keep  them  face  to  face  and  prevent  either  from 
escaping.  Elise  tried  to  run,  but  her  legs  tottered 
under  her.  She  tried  to  cry  out,  to  frighten  them 
by  this  approach  of  a  stranger,  but  her  voice  died 
away  in  her  throat. 

She  heard  the  voice  of  Poidevin  directing  the 
fight. 

"  To  your  work,  lads.  You  know  the  custom.  In 
a  case  of  gallantry  you  strike  to  kill." 

There  were  some  frightful  instants  of  silence; 
overhead  the  sea-gulls  wheeled — sea-gulls  drawn  by 
the  hope  of  blood ;  then  came  Poidevin's  voice  judg- 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  273 

ing  the  blows.  Then  there  was  a  hoarse  clamor  and 
two  voices  cried  together: 

"  His  account  is  settled.  Yes,  You  have  ripped 
him  up  like  a  sack." 

"  Who  !  Chretien  surely !  Poor  Mother  Loirat !  " 
And  seized  by  a  tremor  of  unconquerable  anguish 
Elise  fell  prostrate  on  the  sand.  She  had  fainted. 

"  Ma'mselle  Elise.  It  is  I.  Do  you  not  know  me  ! 
The  bouquet  has  brought  me  luck." 

Elise  came  to  herself  in  the  arms  of  Chretien,  who 
carried  her  to  her  cabin. 

"  Fear  no  longer,  Ma'mselle  Elise.  Florimond 
will  never  trouble  you  again.  He  had  sworn  to  kill 
Silvere." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  Jeune-AdolpJiine  did  not  sail  the  next  day. 
A  good  fellow,  after  all,  Poidevin  had  a  tender 
heart.  Immediately  after  the  fight,  of  which  he  had 
been  a  witness,  he  had  gone  to  the  tavern  to  drown 
his  emotion,  and  he  had  drowned  it  so  effectively 
that  his  reasoning  faculties  had  gone  with  it. 

Wandering  through  the  town  and  tired  of  knock- 
ing at  all  the  doors  whose  bolts  would  not  move  for 
his  key,  he  had  ended  by  occupying  a  very  soft  bed 
which  he  found  in  a  damp  ditch  by  the  roadside. 
When  the  next  morning  they  lifted  him  up,  muddy 
and  with  water-cress  in  his  beard  and  hair,  he  was 
helpless.  His  fat  alone  had  saved  him  from  a  worse 
fate.  Howling  with  rheumatism,  he  kept  his  bed 
for  a  month,  while  the  Jeune-Adolphine  waited  im- 
patiently in  the  harbor. 

Silvere  wished  to  take  advantage  of  this  respite 
and  be  married.  On  his  recent  trip  he  had  re- 
covered some  important  sums  lent  by  his  father  to 
his  country  relatives.  He  was  in  easy  circumstances 
as  far  as  money  was  concerned.  What  was  there  to 
wait  for. 

They  must  wait  for  Barbet  to  get  well.  At  least 
so  Elise  thought.  She  would  not  have  a  happy 
wedding  if  her  old  friend  did  not  assist. 

274 


A   FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  275 

"  Hurry  and  get  well,  my  poor  Barbet.  I  want 
you  for  a  witness." 

And  a  witness  he  was.  Poidevin's  illness  con- 
tinued beyond  the  doctor's  expectations ;  the  days 
grew  into  weeks.  The  end  of  October  was  at  hand 
and  the  Jeune-Adolphine  could  not  hope  to  go 
fishing  before  the  new  year.  Already  the  sailors 
were  dismantling  her.  They  were  not  now  driven 
by  the  fear  of  having  to  sail,  and  Elise  herself  began 
to  wish  for  the  long-announced  marriage. 

"Hurry  to  get  well,  Barbet.  You  will  not  put 
us  off  until  winter,  will  you  ?" 

For  a  fortnight  Barbet  had  moved  about  the 
room,  dragging  his  hind  legs  behind  him.  His 
strength  came  back  very  slowly. 

"  You  will  not  be  able  to  dance  at  the  wedding, 
you  poor  old  crippled  Barbet." 

He  did  not  object  to  any  remedies,  salt  baths, 
rubbings,  tonics,  but,  much  as  he  wished  it,  he 
could  not  get  well.  At  last,  near  All  Saint's  Day, 
after  hours  of  attempts  which  cost  him  many  a 
twinge,  he  managed  to  stand  on  his  four  feet  and 
walk.  He  tried  it  twenty  times  before  Eiise. 

"  You  walk  well  now,  my  old  Barbet." 

And  the  wedding  was  fixed  for  the  Saturday 
after  Saint  Martin's  Day.  On  that  day  the  sky  was 
clear  at  the  sun  rising,  with  that  blue  of  autumn 
which  pales  as  it  nears  the  horizon.  The  south 
wind  blew  softly,  while  the  gray  crows,  the  larks, 
the  starlings,  the  green  finches,  and  all  the  birds  of 
passage  filled  the  air  with  joyous  cries. 

At  daybreak  Elise  went  with  Silvere  to  the  grave- 


276  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

yard  to  invoke  from  her  parents  the  first  of  the 
benedictions  she  was  to  receive  that  day.  She 
slowly  climbed  the  dune  road,  supported  by  him 
whom  she  was  so  soon  to  accept  before  men  and 
for  eternity  as  her  only  master,  her  protector,  and 
her  husband. 

Half-way  up  she  stopped.  Below  her  the  gulf 
hid  beneath  its  scintillations  the  deep  abyss,  but  as 
she  saw  it  from  afar,  so  laughing  and  so  treacherous, 
Elise  had  not  the  tremors  of  other  days.  One  is 
not  afraid  of  what  one  knows. 

"  Silvere,"  she  said  simply,  "  one  clings  closer  to 
happiness  when  one  has  fought  for  it." 

Then  she  threw  a  last  glance  beyond  the  gulf  to- 
ward England,  and  her  breast  swelled  with  emotion 
at  the  remembrance.  Her  thoughts  flew  toFirmin, 
the  lad  of  her  choice,  whom  she  had  loved  so  much. 
Notwithstanding  all,  she  reproached  herself  for  leav- 
ing him.  She  said  to  herself  that  soon  other  cares 
would  take  all  her  time,  and  some  day,  perhaps,  she 
would  have  children  of  her  own  who  would  awake 
in  her  new  inquietude  and  new  duties. 

Silvere  watched  her,  lost  in  this  far-off  revery. 
She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  unconsciously,  and  seeing 
that  he  divined  her  thoughts  tried  to  hide  them  in  a 
smile.  But  he  quickly  reassured  her. 

"You  will  always  love  your  Firmin,  will  you  not  ? 
Since  he  is  your  brother  he  shall  be  mine,  Lise.  In  a 
household  all  friendships  should  be  shared." 

After  the  blessings  of  the  relations,  comes  that  of 
the  mayor.  The  procession  left  the  cottage,  Silvere 


A   FISH  EX   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  277 

at  its  head,  very  handsome  in  his  new  clothes,  with 
his  brown  hat  and  his  blue  shirt  with  a  heart  em- 
broidered on  it.  Radiantly  happy,  Mother  Pilote, 
hanging  on  the  arm  of  her  great  son,  trotted  gaily 
along  in  her  holiday  costume  of  red  skirt  and  green 
shawl. 

Elise  was  married  in  white.  That  is  the  rule  for 
young  girls.  She  marched  second  in  the  procession, 
and  took  no  one's  arm  in  order  that  she  might  have 
Barbet  beside  her. 

He  advanced  gravely,  as  was  due  to  the  occasion. 
The  night  before,  on  seeing  them  bring  her  white 
dress  and  crown  of  orange  blossoms,  he  had  foreseen 
this  holiday,  and  had  given  Elise  no  peace  until  she 
had  taken  out  from  the  chest  his  tarnished  lace  and 
chevrons.  He  had  insisted  on  her  rubbing  and  pol- 
ishing them  for  more  than  an  hour,  and  attired  to 
his  taste  he  yielded  place  to  no  one. 

Then  came  Silvere's  relatives  and  Chretien  and 
Mother  Loirat ;  finally  M.  Emite,  who  half-disap- 
peared under  a  huge  bouquet  of  chrysanthemums  all 
tied  up  in  white  ribbons.  It  was  the  gift  of  the  com- 
missaire  of  Saint-Valery,  and  M.  Emile  thought  it 
so  beautiful  that  he  wanted  to  carry  it  all  day.  It 
took  both  his  arms  to  hold  it,  and  he  had  to  lean  his 
head  back  so  far  that  twenty  times  he  nearly  lost  his 
high  hat,  which  had  been  all  newly  polished. 

The  mayor  received  the  company  with  his  best 
smile.  He  pretended  to  accept  Barbet  as  witness,  and 
the  dog  acted  his  part  and  responded  to  each  in- 
quiry the  same  as  the  others.  When  asked,  according 
to  the  usual  formula,  "  Do  you  agree  to  take  Silvere 


27**  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

Pollene  here  present  for  your  husband?  "  Elise  an- 
swered softly  in  her  sweet  voice.  Barbet,  doubtless 
judging  the  "Yes"  not  said  with  sufficient  firmness 
and  vigor,  treated  it  by  his  loudest  bark. 

He  was  not  provoked,  when,  as  they  left  the 
mairie,  Elise  took  Silvere's  arm.  He  kept  through 
the  whole  walk  his  own  company,  instead  of  going 
with  Mother  Pilote,  whom  they  tried  to  make  him 
take  as  companion. 

Mother  Pilote  herself  was  so  full  of  smiles,  so  fool- 
ishly happy,  that  she  amused  herself  by  trying  to  rec- 
oncile Barbet  to  his  new  companion. 

"You  will  not  make  anything  by  changing,  Bar- 
bet.  What  do  you  expect  ?  From  youth  to  age  ; 
it  is  always  so  in  life." 

It  was  worse  still  for  Barbet  at  the  church.  He 
entered  quietly,  like  a  person  of  importance.  The 
beadle  tried  to  drive  him  out ;  he  showed  his  teeth. 
Then  Elise,  without  thinking  of  her  white  dress, 
took  him  boldly  up  and  carried  him  out  to  the  Place. 
She  made  up,  to  console  him,  such  wheedling  ex- 
cuses and  faithful  promises,  that  he  was  content. 

They  met  again  happily  after  the  ceremony.  All 
the  town  was  assembled  along  the  route  and,  under 
showers  of  flowers  which  the  girls  flung,  in  the  midst 
of  the  firing  of  guns  and  letting  off  of  powder  with 
which  the  young  men  of  the  village  deafened  them, 
between  the  congratulations  of  the  old  people  and  the 
cries  of  wondering  children,  the  company  walked  to 
Silvere's  house  for  the  mid-day  meal.  Then,  faith- 
ful to  custom,  after  it  they  set  out  again  for  the 
fields. 


A    FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  279 

Animals  were  grazing  in  the  meadows  fresh  from 
the  autumn  rains.  Elise  recognized  those  through 
which  she  had  run  on  that  mournful  night.  They 
were  still  green  with  the  aftermath,  while  beyond 
them,  in  place  of  ripening  wheat  and  blossoming 
flowers,  the  new-ploughed  ground  awaited  the  seed 
that  was  to  bring  a  fresh  crop. 

The  procession,  led  by  two  violins  and  a  fife,  who 
had  asked  the  honor  of  taking  part,  kept  its  ranks  a 
long  time. 

Silvere  overtopped  by  a  head  all  his  relatives  and 
friends,  and  thus  overlooking  all,  he  did  not  lack 
dignity.  Besides,  since  he  was  assured  of  Elise,  he 
had  gained  in  ease.  His  long  arms  and  big  hands, 
which  were  so  embarrassing  to  him  before,  assumed 
a  fresh  and  nearly  natural  grace. 

He  held  Elise  by  the  hand  after  the  fashion  of 
village  lovers,  and  did  not  speak.  These  simple 
souls  knew  how  to  love  and  be  silent.  He  marched 
along,  looking  about  with  the  astonished  gaze  of  the 
sailor,  to  whom  all  rural  things  are  strange.  But  in 
the  pressure  of  Elise's  hand  he  felt  a  delicious 
tremor  which  stirred  his  heart  like  a  caress. 

They  reached  the  first  village ;  some  cottages 
half-hidden  away  among  trees.  They  were  ex- 
pected. On  the  steps  of  the  tavern  the  young  girls 
in  their  Sunday  dresses  offered  them  cake  and  beer 
in  exchange  for  small  silver.  It  is  a  tradition  of  the 
district.  Elise  was  expected  to  drink  with  Silvere. 
She  just  wet  her  lips  and  handed  the  glass  to  her 
husband,  who  emptied  it  at  a  draught,  as  if  he  were 
drinking  the  aroma  of  her  he  loved.  Then  they  ate 


280  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

together  of  the  cake,  exchanging  a  glance  of  infinite 
sweetness,  a  glance  in  which  could  be  read  the 
thoughts  of  their  hearts.  Henceforth  to  them  all  was 
to  be  in  common,  sorrow,  joy,  strength  and  weak- 
ness, good  and  evil,  all  the  life  of  the  body  and  the 
life  of  the  soul. 

It  was  the  same  at  tavern  after  tavern.  Accord- 
ing to  the  custom  they  could  not  skip  one.  They 
stopped,  drank,  paid,  and  took  up  their  march,  but 
the  procession  began  to  lose  its  first  regularity. 
The  young  people  grew  animated  and  kept  step 
with  the  violins  as  they  entered  the  villages.  Then 
Silvere  and  Elise  led  off  the  marriage  march.  But 
when,  overcome  with  delight  at  his  happiness,  he 
held  her  close  or,  leaning  toward  her,  brushed  the 
hair  on  her  forehead,  she  gently  and  delicately  dis- 
engaged herself  and  ran  to  the  mothers,  whose  age 
made  them  fall  far  behind.  She  embraced  them 
and  encouraged  them,  taking  the  occasion  to  smile 
at  M.  Emile  and  Barbet. 

These  two  shared  the  end  of  the  procession  with 
the  old  people,  the  little  clerk  perspiring  under  his 
bouquet,  the  dog  a  little  stiff  in  his  legs. 

Chretien  alone  of  all  did  not  seem  happy.  His 
steel-gray  eye,  as  it  turned  toward  Elisc,  seemed 
full  of  a  plaintive  sorrow.  One  cannot  cure  them- 
selves of  a  heart  wound  in  a  day. 

The  supper,  the  real  wedding  feast,  had  been  or- 
dered at  the  sailor's  tavern.  Elise  had  not  been 
willing  that  Mother  Pilote  should  have  the  fatigue 
of  it.  At  the  great  table,  where  the  mugs  of  beer 
and  the  white  dishes  sparkled  under  the  lamps,  each 


A   FISHER    GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  281 

one  was  seated  according  to  his  merit  and  rank. 
The  happy  pair  were  midway,  opposite  the  mayor, 
then  the  witnesses  and  the  relatives.  The  young  peo- 
ple were  at  each  end.  There  was  no  fish  served  ;  they 
had  enough  of  that  every  day.  When  they  were 
tired  of  the  meat  courses,  bottles  of  old  cider  were 
emptied,  frothing,  into  the  glasses.  It  was  the 
happy  moment  when  the  satisfied  stomach  sets  the 
tongue  free.  Barbet  himself,  on  his  seat  beside 
Elise,  notwithstanding  the  majesty  of  his  dress, 
shared  the  general  talk. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened,  allowing  the  entrance 
of  a  noisy  crowd,  who  elbowed  one  another  in  their 
haste,  as  if  pushed  from  behind.  In  the  front  were 
Old  Quarrelsome  and  the  Stutterer,  and  the  other 
sailor  of  the  Bon-Pecheur — the  three  whom  Elise 
had  saved.  They  bore  their  present,  a  little  sloop, 
which  they  had  made  together.  The  first  had 
carved  the  hull,  the  second  had  put  in  the  masts  and 
the  rigging,  the  third  had  added  the  sails  and  painted 
it  in  bright  colors.  The  name,  Bon-Ptckeur,  was  on 
its  stern,  with  the  date,  as  a  souvenir. 

A  souvenir  in  which  there  was  blended  some  sad- 
ness. The  last  survivor  of  the  Bon-Pecheur,  Flori- 
mond,  was  not  there.  But  he  was  alive.  The  blow 
of  the  knife  which  he  had  received  would  have  killed 
twenty  ordinary  men.  Fighting  hard  for  life,  he  had 
recovered,  but  he  was  disfigured  by  a  gash  from  his 
forehead  to  his  chest.  No  longer  able  to  be  the 
handsomest  captain  on  that  coast,  he  had  left  it,  and 
become  a  ship-owner  at  Calais. 

The  three  advanced  to  offer  their  present.     The 


282  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

Stutterer  wished  to  speak,  Old  Quarrelsome  tried  to 
prevent  him,  and  it  was  the  third  man,  who,  finding 
nothing  to  say,  gave  the  boat  to  the  bride,  kissing 
her  hands  as  he  did  so. 

Then  four  big  fellows  entered.  They  had  been 
selected  for  their  strength  ;  a  sailor,  a  coastguard,  a 
fisherman,  and  one  of  the  villagers,  representing  the 
different  occupations  of  the  town.  Elbowing  one 
another,  they  arranged  themselves  behind  Elise's 
chair. 

The  mayor  arose.  He  was  not  an  orator,  but  a 
dealer  in  spirits,  a  good  fellow  with  red  cheeks  and 
close-cut  gray  hair.  He  spoke  simply.  The  whole 
town  wished  to  make  a  festival  for  Elise,  in  order  to 
make  up  to  her  in  one  day  for  the  injustice  she  had 
suffered  so  many  weeks.  He  made  a  sign.  The 
four  men  had  already  seized  the  bride's  chair. 

"  Wait.  I  have  not  executed  my  commis- 
sion." 

And  making  his  way  under  the  table,  the  little 
hunchback  laid  his  bouquet  on  Elise's  knees. 

"  Untie  it,  madame.     I  am  too  happy." 

When  the  ribbons  were  unfastened,  the  bouquet 
fell  apart  into  two  clusters,  in  the  center  of  each  of 
which  was  pinned  an  envelope.  The  first  she 
opened  was  an  appointment  for  Silvere  as  assistant 
pilot. 

The  shouts  and  stampings  which  greeted  this 
news  were  repeated  like  a  happy  echo  on  the  stairs, 
then  in  the  room  below  and  on  the  Place. 

Elise  trembled  as  she  opened  the  other  envelope. 
She  found  in  it  a  letter,  and  when  she  had  run 


A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE.  283 

through  it  her  eyes  shone,  her  cheeks  reddened, 
and,  seeing  before  her  the  happy  face  of  the  little 
hunchback,  she  seized  him  with  both  hands  and  em- 
braced him  with  all  Her  heart. 

It  was  a  letter  from  Firmin.  It  announced  that 
he  had  passed  the  first  of  the  steps  that  were  to  lead 
him  to  fortune.  His  good  work  and  his  progress  at 
the  school  on  board  had  distinguished  him.  He  was 
a  midshipman. 

Then  the  mayor  gave  the  signal  again.  The 
four  big  fellows  carried  Elise  out.  Her  husband 
and  the  guests  followed. 

The  Place,  so  gloomy  when  the  wedding  party 
had  passed  through  it  before  the  feast,  had  been 
transformed.  It  was  in  festal  array.  In  the  centre 
a  mast,  wreathed  with  flowers  and  surrounded  with 
three  tiers  of  lanterns,  marked  the  place  for  the 
ball ;  the  place  where,  many  months  before,  the  as- 
sembled villagers  had  stoned  her  in  whose  honor 
they  were  soon  to  dance. 

Before  opening  the  quadrille  they  drank  to  her 
health.  The  mayor,  who  was  generous  as  well  as 
rich,  had  furnished  the  liquor  without  charge. 
Each  one  had  brought  his  glass  and  filled  it  at  one 
of  the  casks,  broached  at  the  four  corners  of  the 
Place.  It  was  arranged  that  they  should  fall  in  line 
and  pass  before  the  bride  and  groom  to  clink 
glasses  and  drink  to  their  health,  but  country  peo- 
ple do  not  know  how  to  do  things.  They  did  not 
fall  in  line.  They  pressed  and  crowded  one  another 
so  that  the  glasses  were  half-emptied  on  the  dresses 
and  jackets.  They  had  to  go  back  and  fill  and 


284  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

empty  them   again,  but  this    time    they   emptied 
them  standing  by  the  cask. 

And  when  they  had  drunk  they  danced.  The 
night  was  cold,  but  they  could 'warm  themselves  at 
the  casks. 

Long  before  midnight  the  old  people  went  to  bed. 
Elise  had  left  the  ball  for  more  than  an  hour  then, 
to  accompany  Mother  Pilote,  the  poor  old  woman 
whose  only  child  she  was  taking. 

"Do  not  weep,  Mother  Pilote.  You  have  not 
lost  a  son  :  you  have  gained  a  daughter." 

She  had  been  happy  all  day,  but  on  finding  her- 
self alone  in  her  house,  the  old  woman  was  sud- 
denly seized  with  sadness. 

"  Do  not  weep,  Mother  Pilote,  you  have  two 
children  to  love  you  now,  instead  of  one." 

These  outbursts  of  filial  affection  only  made  the 
separation  more  painful,  and  when  Elise  returned  to 
the  dancers  she  was  still  a  little  sober  and  quiet. 

Toward  morning  the  young  people  escorted  the 
newly  married  pair  home.  On  the  steps  of  the  cot- 
tage Elise  embraced  all  the  girls,  her  companions. 
After  the  farewells,  Silvere  wished  her  to  enter  first 
through  the  wide-open  door.  She  turned  to  see  if 
Barbet  had  followed,  for  in  the  noise  of  the  dance 
they  had  forgotten  him.  But  Barbet  was  not  there, 
and  all  who  were  waiting  until  the  door  closed  on 
them  set  out  to  hunt  for  him.  Elise  and  Silvere 
found  him  on  the  step  of  the  house  in  which  Chre- 
tien lived. 

.  "  What  are  you  doing  there,  old  Barbet  ?     Are  you 
hurt  at  me  for  having  forgotten  you  ?  " 


SHE   WISHED   TO   CARRY   HIM    AWAY. 


Chap.  30. 


A  FISHER   GIRL    OF  FRANCE.  285 

He  tried  to  answer  with  a  look.  Elise  could  not 
understand  at  all.  She  wished  to  carry  him  away, 
and  made  him  many  excuses,  prayers,  and  caresses. 
But  he  was  firm  against  all. 

That  which  he  wanted  to  say  she  understood 
later.  Since  henceforth  she  had  another  one  devoted 
to  her  service,  since  she  was  to  be  loved  and  pro- 
tected all  her  life,  Barbet  could  no  longer  serve  her. 
He  would  take  up  his  old  life  as  a  dog  of  the  coast 
guard  and  the  village.  He  would  signal  the  in- 
coming boats  and  take  the  children  to  school. 

"  Lise,  let  us  leave  him.  Without  doubt  he  is 
jealous  because  you  are  married." 

She  raised  her  beautiful,  thoughtful  eyes  to  Sil- 
vere  and  saw  him  all  smiling  with  love.  Then,  hurt 
by  this  unspeakable  trouble,  yielding  half-con- 
sciously  to  this  new  call  of  her  spirit  and  carried 
away  by  the  intoxication  of  this  new  happiness,  she 
forgot  her  companion  of  evil  days,  her  always  firm 
friend,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  was  unjust  to 
Barbet.  She  thought  him  untrue  and  jealous. 

But  four  years  later,  when  she  was  the  mother  of 
two  boys  and  the  day  came  for  the  elder,  her  little 
Baptiste,  to  go  to  school,  Barbet  became  his  pro- 
tector. Vigilant  and  faithful,  the  dog  gave  the  son 
the  same  tender  care  which  formerly  he  had  given 
the  mother.  Then  only  did  Elise  understand  Bar- 
bet.  Devoted  to  the  cause  of  the  weak  and  afflicted, 
he  would  have  failed  of  his  destiny  if  he  had  stayed 
with  her.  The  new  master  he  had  chosen,  a  master 
gentle  and  unhappy,  Chretien,  sustained  by  his 
friendship,  found  once  more  that  life  was  sweet.  He 


286  A   FISHER   GIRL   OF  FRANCE. 

had  become  a  coast  guard,  and  had  taken  the  place 
in  the  eyes  of  the  village  of  Barbet's  first  master, 
the  dead  captain. 

But  Barbet  had  not  waited  for  this  far  distant 
time  to  take  up  his  old  work,  and  each  night  when 
he  brought  home  her  little  Baptiste,  well  kept  and 
watched,  Elise  kissed  on  his  nose  this  good  friend. 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  have  misunderstood  you,  Bar- 
bet.  Are  you  not  always  right  ?  " 


THE   END. 


DC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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